Married at First Sight
by love.devil.movies.baby
Summary: Ask, and you shall receive...A young Rick and Michonne are newlyweds, chosen for one another by their respective communities. Can they navigate the waters of an arranged marriage to become the power couple of the apocalypse? Or will the world they live in undo them before they can even begin? A AU zombie story and continuation of a prompt from We're the Ones Who Live.
1. First Night

**A/N: A prompt inspired by RiseupRichonne on Tumblr. A married at first sight fic set in an AU zombie universe. Rick and Michonne are the adult children of the leaders of Alexandria and the Kingdom. Their parents are sure that the pair is a match made in heaven. Michonne wonders what the future holds as they spend their first night together.**

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"You're sure about this?"

"Rick, you've asked me that at least a dozen times now."

"And I still haven't gotten a convincing answer, Michonne," he implored. His blue eyes seemed to glow preternaturally in the low light of his bedroom. _Their_ bedroom, she realized with a start.

"The sooner we do this, the sooner it will be over with," she lowered herself nervously to the bed, layers of tulle and lace gathering beneath her. She would never have chosen such a garish dress for herself. Unfortunately, her input had mattered little when it came to the subject of her wedding. The man in front of her, her husband, had been vetted and selected with careful consideration. Both his parents and hers were in complete agreement as to their compatibility. She had only met him a handful of times before, on trades and group runs. They'd never exchanged more than a few words at a time.

"We don't _have_ to do anything," his twang was unfamiliar to her ears, but oddly comforting nonetheless. He sat beside her, his tuxedo clad leg brushing hers.

"Except get married," she did not mean to say it, but the words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.

Surprisingly, he laughed, the mirth evident on his face. "Crazy world, ain't it?"

She was inclined to agree. Still, insulting the man she was meant to spend her life with did not seem like the best option. "I didn't mean to offend…"

"No offense taken," he assured her, loosening his tie. He had tanned, calloused hands, the hands of a man who was used to working outside. The sight of them was reassuring. Perhaps he would not mind her callouses. "My parents said they used to do things like this in some places in the world, even before the turn." He continued, studying the tie that was now draped across his lap.

"Apparently, it was effective," Michonne smiled gently at him. "Otherwise, why continue it?" She fiddled nervously with her own fingers, suddenly wanting to be rid of the dress, back with the familiar weight of her katana swung across her back.

"We have to repopulate the world. I guess it takes some coercing," Rick chuckled wryly to himself. "I still think that they could have given us a moment."

"Sometimes we don't get a moment, not in this world." Michonne did not know why, but she was echoing the argument her mother had used against her when this plan had been announced.

"I guess that's true," Rick looked thoughtful. "But we don't have to get started on it tonight. Not if you don't want to." Michonne studied him. She'd never much looked at him in their limited interactions before now. There was little time to focus on anything but survival when you were outside of the walls of any settlement. Rick had always handled himself confidently on the road. She saw now that his confidence extended beyond just work.

"Would you want to?" Michonne questioned him, amused by his seeming lack of nerves. She was impressed, truth be told. He was handling the situation with a grace she admired. She imagined he could have had his pick of Alexandrian women. Now, he was hers. He did not seem bothered by it.

Rick shrugged, a slight blush creeping up his lightly stubbled cheeks. He'd been clean shaven this morning when they said their vows. All four communities had shown up, bells on. It wasn't every day that the communities intermarried, and certainly not two people who were so prominent. Even so, prestige had not earned Michonne the right to pick her own partner. She'd been paired with a fighter as strong as she was, at least according to her parents. Rick was a survivor. Now, they would start a new generation of survivors.

"It wouldn't be so bad," he grinned lightly at her, his eyes raking teasingly over her. She flushed beneath her dark skin, but couldn't help her amusement.

Michonne felt herself beginning to laugh. "Like I said, we might as well." She meant it teasingly, but he did not seem to find the joke funny.

Rick's face contorted at that, as though he didn't like the idea of it at all anymore. Michonne had never known a man in this world to turn down sex when it was offered. The idea that Rick was considering it floored her.

"I'll make a deal with you," he sat up straighter, looking her dead in the eye. "You can ask me questions about anything. I'll answer them honestly. And if after you hear the answers, you still want to get it over with, we can. And if you want to just sleep, we can do that too." His brow furrowed as though he was concentrating hard.

Intrigued, Michonne tilted her head, regarding him. He was looking so earnestly at her that she didn't think she could have refused if she wanted to. "How many questions?"

"As many as you want," he replied easily.

"All right," she considered carefully, wondering where you even began when you wanted to get to know your husband. "How old were you?"

"When it all started?" he understood instantly. "10. I was living in Georgia with my parents. Little place called Kings County. We barely made it out, camped outside of Atlanta for a while, waiting for someone to come save us. When we started losing people, we moved on."

"All the way to Alexandria?" she asked quietly, trying to picture this stoic young man as a small boy.

"After some pit stops, yeah," he got a far-off look that she recognized.

"I was 9," Michonne found herself speaking. "My family lived in DC. My mom had a government job, very important. They got us out. For a while, it was like nothing had changed, like we just moved. Then everything changed when the fences came down."

She remembered that day vividly. It marked the end of her childhood, the beginning of this new life as a warrior.

"How'd you end up at the Kingdom?" he asked her, his eyes on her face. He scooted closer to her and she allowed it, comfortable with the proximity.

Michonne fidgeted with her skirt. "My dad knew Ezekiel from work. They rallied the troops, got people together. I heard your parents did something similar for Alexandria"

Rick nodded sagely. "It took ten years, but they did it." He paused, tugging at the buttons on his dress shirt. "Do you mind if I get out of this? It's uncomfortable."

"Not if you help me with this dress," she gestured to the fabric surrounding her. He obliged with a laugh, unzipping her out of the behemoth creation, laying it carefully on a chair beside their bed. She relaxed against the headboard as he shrugged out of his tuxedo, ending up in an undershirt and boxers.

"Is this ok?" he asked, gesturing to their relative state of undress.

Michonne nodded, waiting for him to take his seat beside her again. "How many walkers have you killed?" she resumed her questioning.

"Lost count sometime when I was a teenager. You?"

"Same," she paused again, considering her next question. Rick beat her to the punch.

"3," he said simply. "They attacked us on the road. Sometimes I think about it."

"5," she sighed, attempting to tuck the memories back into the recesses of her mind. "Two occasions. Both times I was attacked first."

He reached for her hand, his palm covering hers. Michonne flipped her own over, tracing the curves of his palms with the tips of her fingers. The contact was instantly soothing. Rick leaned backwards against the headboard, his curly hair falling into his face as he turned to look at her.

"Next question?" he prompted.

"Who's your best friend?" she needed a reprieve from the seriousness. Rick seemed to appreciate it.

"Tossup between a guy named Glenn and a guy named Daryl. But I'm hoping it'll be you soon."

"Why is that?" his answer surprised her.

"I always figured it'd be nice to be married to my best friend," he said simply.

Michonne smiled, chuckling to herself. Perhaps her parents _did_ know her well. She reached up with her free hand to loosen the complicated coif atop her head. Rick was momentarily distracted by her falling locs, but quickly regained composure.

"You can touch it, if you want to," Michonne told him knowingly. She leaned into Rick, resting her bare shoulder against his. He smiled, reaching for her hair.

"You looked really beautiful today," he muttered softly, his fingers tracing patterns down the long tendrils. "I wanted to tell you, but…" he laughed nervously.

"You looked handsome too," she complimented. In truth, he still looked handsome. His dark curls were getting wild as they escaped his slicked-back hairdo. She could see the muscles in his arms and shoulders, could feel the strength in the hand she was still holding. As far as husbands went, he did not seem so bad.

"You can touch it," he echoed her words, his eyes catching hers as she fixated on his curls. She smiled, twisting her fingers through the silky strands. He mirrored her, releasing her hand to drag both of his through the long curls around her head. "You done with your questions?" he asked.

Michonne met his eyes, struck by how close they suddenly were to one another. "What do you think being married to me will be like?" Her heart was pounding against her ribcage frantically, the way it always raced before a fight. She swallowed, attempting to calm herself, wondering why she was suddenly so nervous.

He ran a finger from her hair to her chin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. "So far, so good," he teased. One hand found its way back to her hair, the other reaching around to grasp her hand again. "My parents were right about you."

She laughed, the sound too loud to her ears. His touch was doing something to her, something she had not anticipated. "What did they say?" she was truly curious.

"They said that I'd like you," Rick's smile set her heart beating faster. She recalled their wedding, just a few hours prior. Their kiss had been chaste, short, full of nerves. She wanted to remedy that now.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked her final question.

He answered by closing the distance between them, covering her mouth with his own. He was tentative at first, gentle with his attentions, his hands just skimming the exposed skin of her shoulders. Michonne felt fewer reservations the deeper their kiss became, pressing her body fully to his until she was practically in his lap. He ran his hands up her bare legs as she trailed her own down his arms, clutching at the muscles. Heat flooded her as she felt him stiffen beneath her.

"Do you still want to get it over with?" Rick groaned as she rolled her hips into his. She delighted in the sound, deciding then and there that she would coax it from him again.

"No," Michonne held her giggle in at the sight of his disappointed face. She studied him for a moment, taking in his mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips. She wondered if their children would have his eyes. She kissed his cheek, dragging her lips to his neck. "I want you to go slow," she instructed, not recognizing her own breathy tone.

"Whatever you want," Rick assured her, his deep voice sending chills racing through her limbs. Gently, he rolled them both over, settling atop her. Michonne lost her silk slip a few minutes later, but scarcely noticed. Rick's hands were distracting. She clawed and clutched at his own body, gasping and shivering as he lavished her with attention. She could feel him pressing against her, hard and insistent. She guided him into her, unsure which of them was moaning louder as he slowly slid in.

It wasn't long until she reneged on her instruction to go slow, instead panting for her husband to go faster, deeper. He happily obliged. Tension coiled in the pit of her stomach like a tightly wound spring, the events of the last few weeks gathering and pulsating through her. She was married now, to a relative stranger.

She felt strangely happy about it.

White light exploded behind her eyes as the tension gave way all at once, her body convulsing until her new husband let out a strangled cry and collapsed on top of her. Their skin was slick, their breathing labored, but he still dusted kisses down her neck and shoulders. He held her like that again until her breaths slowed down. Michonne was content to lay cosseted in his grasp, listening to the faint thrumming of his heart.

"I was thinking maybe we could take a trip," he whispered, "Just the two of us."

She craned her neck upwards, gazing at him through her lashes. "Like a run?"

"Sure," he nuzzled closer to her, burying his face in her hair. "We can talk then. Get to know each other before…"

"Before we go back to work," she finished for him. They were expected to start a new community, continue the expansion of this new world.

"It's just an idea," he exhaled, his voice trembling a bit.

"I like it," she reassured him, kissing his chin. He relaxed against her. Michonne wound her arms around him, her mind tumbling with thoughts of the future. It had always seemed uncertain to her, a possibility she did not have the luxury to consider. She flattened her palms against the chest of the man lying naked next to her. "It will be nice to have a partner out there," she said quietly.

Rick smiled, dropping a kiss against her forehead. She tilted her face to accept his affections, heat beginning to stir beneath her skin once more.

"I think that this is going to work out, Mrs. Grimes," he breathed against her, sitting up to look at her again with his piercing gaze. Michonne ran a hand down up his face, brushing his damp hair back so that she could look at all of him.

"I think it will," she agreed, smiling.


	2. Honeymoon

"This is nice." Michonne's quiet compliment cut through the otherwise quiet morning. She was walking stealthily beside him, her feet scarcely making a sound as they traipsed through what would soon be their community.

"It was part of the project that created Alexandria. Took a few weeks to clear it out. In a month or two, we had a proper wall up," he gestured behind them to the steel plates shutting out the outside world. Michonne took them in calmly, her large brown eyes inspecting her surroundings carefully. She was an interesting woman, Rick was sure of that. He'd seen her before, gone on runs with her even. She was always quiet, calculating, careful, almost studious. On the road, he had never seen her smile or heard her laugh. He'd heard her laugh last night. He also had heard her gasping in pleasure.

His wife. It was a strange reality to confront in the light of day. Like waking up in a dream, he was sure he'd imagined the night before. She was so shy, so tentative, nervous even. It caught him off-guard. The Michonne he knew was always sure of herself.

Then again, he didn't really know her. At least, not outside of the Biblical sense.

"Which one is ours?" her voice startled him from his musings. He turned to look at her. She was staring back expectantly. He took a moment to observe her, her long, dark lashes, her round nose, her full, heart-shaped mouth. Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. The effect was just as pretty as her elaborate updo had been for their wedding. She was beautiful and she was married to him.

"I thought I would ask you to pick," he nodded in the direction of the large houses. "I figured maybe you should get a say." He meant it as a joke, but instantly regretted it. Michonne had not picked him. He had been chosen _for_ her. It was a daunting thought.

She smiled at him, the corners of her mouth lifting prettily. "Can we pick together?" she adjusted the katana strung across her back. Rick felt himself touch his Colt Python almost instinctively.

"I'd like that," he reached for her hand before he could think better of it. He had dated a girl once before, a pretty, waifish brunette. She hadn't been cut out for this world, and he couldn't save her, but he did learn everything he knew about romance from the experience. She had told him that he was too touchy, always kissing or hugging on her when they were alone. He wondered if his wife would feel the same.

Her slim, dark hand tensed for just a moment at his touch, then she relaxed, lacing her fingers around his. "Lead the way," she instructed.

They strolled through the street in silence, listening carefully for any sign of walkers. Michonne's eyes stayed on a constant swivel, bouncing from the houses to the yards between them.

"Do you like any of them?" he wished he had something better to say than these simple questions, but the woman who was now his wife robbed him of his ability to be clever. He had never found the confidence to say more than a few words to her all those times before. That did not stop him from jumping at the opportunity when his parents began to mention picking a partner for him. Their system may have been antiquated, but following his parents' orders had kept him alive this long.

"The blue one is pretty," her girlish comment brought a smile to his face. He had hoped she would pick that one. Glenn and Daryl had helped him paint it before it occurred to Rick that he should ask his wife what she thought.

"We can go look at it. Just give me a second to clear it out," he released her hand, reaching instead for his gun.

Her fingers clutching his arm made him pause. For a moment, he thought she might have been frightened, but her resolved expression soon dispelled that myth. "Together," she said simply.

He held the door open for her, watching her draw her sword. From the foyer, to the kitchen, to the living room, they quickly canvased the downstairs. When they reached the upstairs bedrooms, Rick felt his heart begin to race.

"What do you think?" he watched her circle the bed in the master bedroom, trying and failing miserably to not think of their first night together. All her uncertainty had vanished once he pressed his lips to hers last night. He could still feel her fingers in his hair, her legs wrapped around his waist, the heat of her, pulling and clutching at him until he felt like he might die of pleasure. Her gasps and moans still rung in his ears.

"It has a good vantage point," she went to the window, peering out. "You can see almost all of the community from here. That could come in handy." She gazed back at him, then looked quickly away. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked quietly.

"Like what?" Rick was certain that he was drooling a bit, but he could not help it.

"Like _that_ ," she found the courage to look up again, the hint of a blush beneath her coppery cheeks. "Even before the wedding, you would look at me." She turned to face him, waiting expectantly.

Rick felt his own cheeks coloring. "You're beautiful."

She watched him for a moment longer, clearly assessing. With a nod, she accepted his answer. "All right." She moved towards him, picking her katana up from its resting place on the bed. "We should keep looking."

Rick caught her arm, marveling at the fluid muscle below. His hands had caressed every part of her within reach last night, had delighted in the feel of her beneath him. "It's not just that you're beautiful," he felt compelled to explain his point. If they were going to be married, she needed to know the truth. "I've seen you on the road, and with your people. You're a natural at this." Her face contorted into an expression of confusion. Rick clarified quickly. "You're a leader."

She considered this, her dark eyes unmoving from his face. "So are you," she said at last.

He relaxed just a fraction. Maybe he hadn't gone so unnoticed by her as he had first suspected. "Maybe there's a reason they paired us up." He attempted to smile.

"Did you know? Beforehand? Did your parents ask you?" she was still watching him.

"No," he shook his head. "I knew they were picking someone. I _hoped_ it was you."

The statement hung between them. Rick began to feel ill, his stomach roiling. He could face down a hoard of walkers, but his wife was undoing him completely.

"Well," she spoke, her lips pulling into a mischievous smile. "Lucky you."

"Lucky me," he agreed, grinning back at her. He liked to see her smile. He wondered how he could bait her for it more in the future. Rick pressed his luck, pulling her towards him. She allowed him to close the distance between them. He contemplated kissing her when she caught him off-guard, standing swiftly on her tip toes to brush her lips against his.

His body acted on its own accord, his hands wrapping around her waist, drawing her in deeper. She let out a tiny little gasp that only served to urge him on. It was almost embarrassing, his reaction to her. She pressed her chest into him and Rick knew she would be able to feel him. Her nimble hands walked a path down his body, coming to rest at his waist. Her fingers traced beneath the worn denim.

"Michonne," he loved the way her name felt leaving his mouth, loved the sound she made when she heard him say it. "We don't have to…"

"I want to," she cut him off quickly, punctuating her protest with more wet kisses. He wondered vaguely when she had gotten so good at this, if there was some boy at home cursing his name for stealing her. "Do you want to?" she asked, looking shyly at him.

He was practically ready to burst at the thought. "I do," the words were raspy. "but I thought we were trying to get to know each other."

She laughed lowly, "This is getting to know each other."

"You don't want to talk?" he could kick himself for asking, and his lower half certainly did not appreciate his efforts at chivalrousness. Still, he had to ask.

"I do," she assured him, nipping at his neck. "I want to do this first." She slipped her hand beneath his waistband. "Isn't this supposed to be our honeymoon?"

He lost the battle at once, clutching her to him until his hands ran over from trying to cup all of her at once. They fell onto the bed in an undignified tangle. Rick wished for the second time in less than 24 hours that he was better-versed in this. If Michonne thought his actions were amateurish, she showed no sign of it. Instead, she tugged almost frantically at his belt.

"I used to watch you too," the confession slipped from her lovely mouth.

"You did?" the thought alone was dizzying. "Why?"

"Because of how you handle yourself out there, how you handle your people. It's like you don't even have to think about it. Like you were born to do it." She finally succeeded in her task, pushing his jeans around his knees. "I like it," she concluded, leaning up to kiss him again.

Something in the back of Rick's mind was making a mental note to tell Glenn and Daryl as soon as possible. They'd both teased him mercilessly for his wayward crush on the warrior woman from the Kingdom. He wanted to be worthy of her attentions, of her affections. Something close to a growl left his throat without his permission. Her vest and sweater disappeared in record time and he went to work on her tight jeans, peeling them inch by inch until her skin was bare beneath him. Somewhere along the way, Michonne rid him of his clothing. He took a moment to study her, marveling at how different this all was in the light of day.

There was no hiding with the sunlight streaming through the open blinds, no writing this off as a one-time thing. He was about to have sex with his wife, and this time, he knew she wanted him.

"Rick," she called his name as his head dropped to her skin, running his tongue across the warm surface until she began to squirm uncontrollably. Her hands found purchase around his waist. He pushed them away, his mind on one thing. She began to shiver as he kissed down her body, coming to stop between her legs. "Rick," she called to him again. "What are you going to—"

Her question transformed into a plaintive moan when he showed her exactly what he wanted to do. He fumbled for a moment, adjusting her legs as he went to work, listening carefully for her reaction. Her breathing was labored, which he figured was a good sign, but it was not quite enough. When his mouth closed in around her, she let out a scream, a curse word escaping her. He repeated the motion, pushing in deeper, delighting in her clamping her legs around his head. With another gasp, she fell apart.

"God, Rick," her legs went limp. "Are you ok? I didn't mean to—"

He cut her off a second time, kissing her full on the mouth. "Stop apologizing," he smiled while she recovered. "I wanted to."

"No one's ever done that before," she admitted. "Not like that at least."

He ignored the thought of another man kissing her like that, instead settling for asking. "It felt good?"

She smiled at him incredulously. "It felt _great_."

"Good," he settled down beside her, watching her carefully.

"It felt good last night too," she told him, rolling to her side to face him. "I was nervous, but…" she trailed off, her hand reaching out to touch him. He pulled it over his neck, bringing them flush together again.

"Are you nervous now?" he asked. Her heart was pounding against his chest.

"Yes," she licked her lips. "Are you?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"Maybe…" she lifted her leg, wrapping it around his. "Maybe we keep practicing until we don't feel nervous anymore."

He chuckled, unwilling to disagree with her. "What about the talking part?"

"We can practice that too," she smiled, her fingers toying with his hair.

"One thing at a time," he kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth as she allowed him to settle between her legs.

"Agreed," she grasped him and Rick's mind went fuzzy.

-l-l-l-l-

"What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," Rick stretched, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his bare skin. Michonne had thrown the curtains open and cracked the window, letting in the cool air. She was sprawled atop him, her hair fanned out over both of their shoulders. "Favorite food?" he asked her.

"Chili Mac and Cheese," she flattened her palm out over his chest. "Favorite weapon?"

"I've had my python since I was a kid. I don't mind the machete though. Favorite thing to do?"

"Spending time with my friends. Maggie and Sasha are good company." She sat up slightly, her lips quirking. "You're giving them a run for their money though."

He returned her smile, kissing her forehead. "What do you want to do first, now that we're in charge of this place?" he asked her. He wondered how this would go, what kind of leaders they would be.

"That's two questions in a row," she chided mildly. "But I'll answer. I want to start a school."

"What kind?" her answer surprised him.

"Teaching people survival skills, scavenging, medicine, weapons," she ticked them of on her fingers. "The more we all know, the better. Then one day, if there's kids…" she trailed off, her skin flushing.

"That's a good idea," he traced patterns along her arm. He could not consider the possibility of children right now, not yet. Their partnership was new. There was work to be done.

"What do you want to do first?" she laid back down on his chest.

"I want to start a farm. Get some vegetables growing. Maybe take the pressure off the Hilltop."

She began to giggle. "Farmer Rick, huh?"

He pinched her. "School teacher Michonne, huh?" he fired right back.

"You think anyone will live here?" her laughter subsided.

"Well, it'll at least be you and me," he attempted to reassure her, wrapping her in his arms again.

"That's not so bad," she mused, smiling at him.

"Nah," he kissed her. "It's not."


	3. Exs and Ohs

**A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed and messaged and reblogged. I'm thrilled that you're enjoying this story as much as I am enjoying writing it. Here's the next chapter...**

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"Careful," Rick was below her, holding onto her thigh tightly.

"I'm good," Michonne glanced down at him. You would have thought she was attempting to climb a mountain without equipment by the look on her husband's face. He was squinting up at her, his brow furrowed, one hand out and ready to catch her if she fell. "It's just a tree," she reminded him, shimmying upwards.

"It is," he agreed, still dancing nervously beneath her. "I just don't want you to fall."

"I think you're just enjoying the view," she teased. His hand slipped down her leg as she continued her assent, testing the branches gingerly before she rested her weight on them.

"Can't deny that," his accent took on a deeper timbre, one that Michonne was beginning to recognize as his bedroom voice. Heat pooled in her stomach as memories came rushing back. It was a wonder she could climb at all, considering her soreness. She was suddenly hyper-aware of places she'd never paid much attention to before this, hyper-aware of Rick's response to her.

She looked down again, her smile almost instinctive. He grinned right back at her.

"How's it looking?" he called up a few minutes later.

Michonne settled on a particularly thick branch, glancing up over the wall. It was ideal, really. "You can see at least a hundred yards off from here. In every direction," her smile widened as she looked back at him.

"Then this is where we'll put it," he was already reaching for her.

"We should think about a second look-out, maybe on the eastern wall," she began her descent, carefully finding her footing.

"I was thinking we could use the town-hall building," Rick lifted his arms, his hand settling on her lower back as she swung down to the ground. "The tower on top there could be perfect. We could make it a headquarters."

"Is that where you want to keep the armory?" she questioned, accepting her katana from him. She secured it over her shoulder.

He nodded, idly plucking a leaf from her hair. "I think we should find a separate place for the pantry."

"Good idea," she felt absurd at how hard she was smiling, but she couldn't help it. "Spread the wealth."

He looked pleased that she understood. "Exactly," he left his hand on her waist, his thumb rubbing light circles. Michonne swallowed, trying to calm herself. She wondered if this was normal, the intense attraction she felt. It had been a week, and every time she fell into bed with Rick, the sensation increased. She'd been around men before, even had a boyfriend for a few months, but never had it felt like this. She'd been worried that they wouldn't be compatible, that their relationship would be one of convenience and not passion.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked her, grinning lopsidedly. She liked that smile, liked that she had never seen it before their wedding. Rick, though serious when the moment called for it, seemed like a goofball at heart.

"Do you think this is normal?" she came right out with the question.

"Do I think what is normal?" he brushed a hand over his face. A week's worth of growth now dusted his cheeks. Michonne found that she liked the effect quite a bit.

"How we've been the last few days," her throat tightened in embarrassment. It was absurd, really. By now, there was no part of her body he hadn't seen, but she was still shy at discussing it.

"Well," he shrugged slightly, "It feels normal to me." He drove his statement home by reaching for her hand. She easily twisted her fingers around his.

"Do you think it will last?" She wondered how many times a day the average couple had sex, if they were using it all up and would simply grow tired of one another. She'd heard other people complain about it, older couples who couldn't find the time anymore.

"I hope so," Rick tilted his head in her direction, his eyes darkening in the way that they so often did before he kissed her. "I can't imagine I'm going to get tired of it." He smirked at her, his eyes raking over her form.

"Really?" she challenged playfully. "You were pretty tired this morning."

"Damn, woman," he rolled his eyes, scoffing. "You keep me up all night and just expect me to perform on command?" he was clearly teasing and Michonne laughed.

"Sorry," she didn't plan on waking up feeling like that. There was something about coming alive in the mornings to him pressed against her that got her engine going. "I don't think I'll get tired of it either," she admitted.

He kissed the hand still wrapped in his own. "I didn't expect this to be so easy," he remarked.

"Me neither," she whispered, accepting a hug from him. Their honeymoon period was drawing to a close. The sound of trucks in the distance heralded the arrival of future citizens of their little community, of their parents and the leaders of the sister cities. The real world was coming in.

"Are you ready?" he nuzzled her hair. Michonne suddenly felt the urge to run backwards towards their house. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I hope so," she mumbled into his shirt, the denim soothing on her cheeks. In truth, she was incredibly nervous. It was one thing to remain sequestered, but in this world, fairytales didn't last long.

"Hey," Rick tilted her chin up. She took him in, his curly dark hair, his blue eyes and straight nose, the dimple in his chin just visible beneath the scruff. "This is going to be fine," she watched his lips shape the words. "We can do this."

"Ok," she nodded, still worrying.

"Michonne," she liked how he said her name. "This has been a good week."

She smiled, toying with the denim collar of his shirt. "Let's do it again sometime." She leaned up, intending to give him a chaste kiss before they headed to the gate. Rick had other intentions. He cupped her face between his palms, tilting his head to deepen their liplock. Michonne felt her heart begin to race immediately. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up. "Let's go home," she begged him breathily.

The sounds of car horns began to ring from the front gate. Rick laughed against her mouth. "Tonight," he promised her. "There's a few people you have to meet first."

-l-l-l-l-

"So, married huh?" Daryl adjusted his crossbow, squinting into the sun. Truckloads of supplies were streaming in through the gate. Glenn and Daryl were stationed on either side of Rick, watching the cars come in.

"Married," Rick confirmed.

"She seems really nice," Glenn glanced back across the road to Michonne, his faded red baseball cap shading his eyes.

"Is it weird?" Daryl questioned, his dark hair clinging to his face. He adjusted his sleeves, staring openly to where Michonne was embracing two women.

Rick had expected this question, but was not prepared to answer it. "It's…" he trailed off, wondering how to explain it. "It's different."

"We kind of figured that, man." Glenn laughed. "Are you two getting along?"

Rick had to chuckle. "Yeah, we're getting along great."

Both Glenn and Daryl's heads snapped around at that, interest clearly written on both of their faces. "The hell does that mean?" Daryl asked.

"We're getting along," Rick repeated, shrugging.

"You're having sex," Glenn accused, amazed.

"Shit," Daryl nodded, impressed.

"It's not like that," Rick was quick to amend his statement. "She's my wife."

"Well, you spent enough time mooning after her," Daryl pointed out.

"It's true. You stared at her all the time. Pretty much every time we saw her." Glenn backed up his friend's point.

"Don't mention that to her," Rick said quickly.

"Can't have her knowing you're a giant nerd too early," Daryl slapped him bracingly on the back as Glenn laughed.

"I think she likes me," Rick ventured. "She seems to like me."

"She's having sex with you," Glenn pointed out. "It's probably a good bet."

Rick nodded distractedly. Michonne was chatting happily with a pretty girl with light brown skin and curly hair, and a bubbly brunette with a wide smile. It seemed odd, seeing her in her element. He realized that he was not ready to share her.

"Let's go say hi," Glenn's eyes followed the brunette.

"Jeez, Rhee. Keep it in your pants," Daryl grumbled.

"Why?" Glenn stood up, "I mean, not the in my pants thing," he flushed, suddenly nervous. "But Rick's married to a girl he used to stare at. Maybe it could work for me too." His eyes darted back across the street. All three women were looking over at them. Michonne's friends burst out laughing at once, leaving Michonne to smile apologetically at Rick from across the street.

"Come on," Rick rallied his friends. "Let me introduce you to my wife."

He began to cross the street, smiling at Michonne. A truck rolled to a stop between them, admitting King Ezekiel, the part time leader of the Kingdom. He boisterously exited the vehicle, greeting Michonne. She graciously accepted a hug from him, then her father in turn. Several other men stepped into the street to greet her. It wasn't until the tall man with dark brown skin got out that Rick saw anything amiss.

"Mike," he heard his wife, the surprise in her voice.

"I guess I should say congratulations," the young man looked back at her, his deep voice rumbling.

"Who the fuck is that?" Daryl asked, echoing Rick's thoughts.

"Get over there, man," Glenn instructed. "She looks nervous."

Glenn was right. Rick had seen Michonne dismantle a hoard of walkers without so much as breaking a sweat, but the man in front of her seemed to panic her. Without pause, Rick crossed the street.

"Hey," he shouldered into the conversation, standing beside Michonne. "I'm Rick."

-l-l-l-l-

"Look at you, glowing over here," Sasha started in immediately once she saw Michonne. "Married life looks good on you."

"And you were worried," Maggie teased. Michonne accepted hugs from the pair of them. It was odd, after a week of only Rick for company to see tangible reminders of her life outside of him.

"It hasn't been bad," she admitted, falling into step with them. From across the street, Rick was waving truck after truck in, the vehicles groaning under the weight of what would soon be part of her new community. Rick caught her eye, smiling at her. Michonne grinned back.

"Shit," Sasha dragged the syllable out dramatically. "I'd say it's been more than just 'not bad'."

Maggie swept her eyes over Michonne's new husband, raising a brow appreciatively. "He looks good with a beard."

"I bet it feels nice too," Sasha laughed, looking expectantly at Michonne.

"It does," there was no use pretending. Her friends would get it out of her one way or the other.

"Oh my gosh," Maggie all but jumped in her excitement. "You guys kissed?"

Michonne glanced around nervously, making sure that no one was in earshot.

"Damn," Sasha correctly read her silence again. "So, I guess you didn't have a hang up about sex after all. It must have been just Mike."

"Shhh," Michonne hissed quickly. Rick did not know about Mike, not yet. She'd only had him for a week. Discussing exes seemed faux pas at this stage. She had no idea how he would take the mention of another man. She was not ready to wreck the fragile balance they had achieved.

"I thought you were scared?" Maggie asked.

"I was," Michonne admitted. Her stomach had roiled for a week before the wedding. She had seen Rick before, knew about the slender woman he'd been enamored with. Michonne looked nothing like her, had no real experience with love. Mike had been nice, a friendly face, a hand to hold in the dark corners of the Kingdom. But Mike was nothing like Rick.

"What happened?" Maggie goaded.

Michonne paused. She'd been wondering this same thing herself. "He was so…nice." She glanced back at him. Rick was now chatting with who she assumed were his friends.

"Nice?" Sasha repeated skeptically. She'd seen Rick on the road. Nice was not the word to describe it.

"I didn't think people were still like that," Michonne admitted. She'd killed men with dishonorable intentions. "But Rick, he doesn't make a move unless I'm comfortable with it."

"And what are you comfortable with?" Sasha smirked.

"He's my husband," Michonne cursed the heat rising to her face.

"So we've heard," Maggie smiled. "But the jury is still out on him. What's he like?"

"Don't just say 'nice'," Sasha prompted.

Michonne laughed. "He's considerate," she tried again. When her friend's both wrinkled their faces, she continued. "He has a good sense of humor. Almost goofy sometimes," she smiled at the thought. "He doesn't do anything without thinking it through first. He's smart, a good leader."

"You learned all of that in a week?" Sasha asked.

Maggie giggled. "You haven't noticed her staring at him for a year? Anytime Alexandria comes to trade, Michonne eyes him up."

Sasha furrowed her brow. "I knew he stared at you. Do you think that's why his parents hooked you two up?"

"My parents approached him," Michonne disclosed. "And maybe I watched him. There's something about him." She refused to feel ashamed about it, not now.

"His friends are cute," Maggie cut her eyes across the street.

"Ask your parents," Sasha teased. "Maybe they'll set it up."

"I'm not the leader of a town," Maggie stuck her tongue out. "That means I can pick who I want."

Michonne remained silent. Even if she had a choice, Rick would have been who she picked to get to know. There had never been much time to think of things like that, not when the burden of leadership hung just above her shoulders. She suspected that Rick understood that feeling.

"Enough of the boring stuff," Sasha interrupted. "What's the sex like?"

Maggie tsked, but did not admonish her friend. "Well?" she asked after several seconds of silence.

"It's good," Michonne admitted. Sometimes it was awkward, and on more than one occasion she'd had no idea what to do. It didn't matter. Rick made her feel wanted, attractive, like a woman. She didn't have a lot of opportunity to feel that way.

"Look at her face!" Maggie cracked up. "It must be _really_ good."

"I shouldn't be talking you about this," Michonne snorted. "Your dad's going to hear about it and then he'll forbid you from living here."

"Living here?" Sasha feigned surprise. "Tyrese and I were thinking of Hilltop."

Michonne rolled her eyes. "Please. Go live with farmers?" she knew Sasha better than that.

"Well, if you can pry your lips off of your man, maybe we'll come," Sasha said on a laugh.

"The way he's looking at her, I doubt that'll happen," Maggie observed. Michonne turned her eyes back across the road. Rick and both of his friends were staring at her. Sasha and Maggie promptly burst into peals of laughter. Rick raised his eyebrow quizzically. Michonne threw him an apologetic smile. She was anticipating tonight with much excitement. She wanted to lay in bed with him and hear what he thought about all of this. It was one thing to hypothetically plan, it was another thing entirely to execute it.

"He's coming over here," Sasha announced. Michonne was aware. She couldn't take her eyes off his bowlegged gait. She stood up straighter, waiting for him, when the truck swung to a stop in front of her.

"Michonne," King Ezekiel's curiously affected accent rang out. She happily hugged the dreadlocked leader, then her father in turn. She knew that the two of them had conspired to marry her to Rick. Michonne thought that she might have to thank them.

"How are you?" her father regarded her seriously, his dark eyes searching hers. Michonne looked very much like the man in front of her, and had many of his mannerisms.

"It's good, Dad," she told him, smiling slightly.

"Good," he nodded. Michonne knew that her mother would have questions when she arrived, but for her father, that was enough. She hugged him tightly, vaguely aware of Ezekiel's guards pouring out of the car. A tall, dark man caught her eye.

"Mike," she wished she sounded calmer, but she had not expected him.

"I guess I should say congratulations," he told her, his voice much more measured than hers.

Michonne stood there, staring, her heart thumping. Even Sasha and Maggie seemed to glean the seriousness of the situation. They knew all the dirty details of her brief dalliance with Mike. Sasha made a move to stand beside her. She was beaten to the punch.

"Hey," she heard her husband's voice, felt his sudden presence at her side. "I'm Rick."

She glanced gratefully at him, wishing she had time to explain in private.

"You must be the husband," Mike wasn't rattled. "I'm the ex."

Behind her, Michonne heard Sasha exhale roughly and Maggie gasp.


	4. Following the Leader

**A/N: Your views and reviews and support for this story have been incredible! I'm thrilled that you seem to like it!**

 **Unfortunately, I'm coming off a holiday weekend, so updates may be fewer and further in between. But I promise I will try to get another chapter up within the week.**

 **Please enjoy chapter 4!**

* * *

"Fuck that guy," Daryl squinted out across the road to where the trucks were being unloaded. His arms were full, but that did not stop him from pausing to shoot daggers where Mike was standing.

"Agreed," Glenn seconded the feeling, adjusting his ballcap before bending down to retrieve another crate. "Who the hell does he think he is?"

"Michonne's ex, apparently," Rick took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly through his nose. His carefully maintained composure was beginning to slip the longer that Mike swaggered around, staring at Michonne. Rick wanted to knock the teeth out of that perfect, white smile.

"Did she mention him?" Glenn asked. "Before?"

"Before what?" Rick had to scoff. "We've been married a week."

Glenn shrugged. "Still."

"I haven't told her about Lori," Rick fully intended to, but there had not been the time. He didn't want to waste the first few days together discussing old flames. He hadn't anticipated one of them showing up with the cargo.

"She doesn't look like she's thrilled to see him," Glenn pointed out, shoving boxes aside.

"She might kill him before you do," Daryl chuckled.

"No one's killing any one," the statement left Rick's mouth reluctantly. He chanced a glance to where Michonne was deep in conversation with her father.

"Sure," Daryl did nothing to disguise his sardonic tone.

"Rick?"

All three men spun on their heels. Michonne's friends were staring back at them, the bouncy brunette hiding just slightly behind the woman with the curly hair.

"Hey," Rick sat down the burden he was holding to shake hands, quickly introducing his friends to the women he now knew as Sasha and Maggie. Daryl and Glenn snapped to attention at once, suddenly less interested in Michonne's ex.

"We've heard good things about you," Sasha started in, her voice clear and level. She was a striking woman for someone so petite, the kind of person Rick doubted suffered fools. She stared at him through a mountain of kinky hair, her wide eyes seemingly looking right through him. "Michonne likes you a lot."

"A _lot_ ," Maggie emphasized, her short hair fluttering in the breeze.

"Don't let Mike mess it up for you," Sasha continued, rolling her eyes with finesse. "He's just bitter."

" _So_ bitter," Maggie threw in. "And a jerk."

"Right," Sasha agreed. "I'm sure Michonne will tell you."

"You think he's a threat?" Rick stood up straighter, flickering his eyes to the tall, dark and handsome man currently chatting it up with King Ezekiel.

"Nah," Sasha's answer was instantaneous. "He's mostly a good guy. Just a dumbass." She shrugged. Rick had to chuckle.

"I'll see what my wife thinks," it seemed important to claim her this way, especially around strangers.

"Probably a good idea," Sasha nodded, something almost like admiration flickering in her eyes.

Struck by an idea, Rick looked away from Michonne's friends and to the woman in question. Her brow was creased, the little divot between her brows putting him in mind of their time together before their marriage. It was her game face, he realized, the one she wore when she shut everything else out.

"Can you guys take over here?" he delegated his first task as co-leader.

"We got it man," Glenn nodded emphatically.

"Handle what you need to," Daryl was already back to work, heaving supplies onto a nearby handcart.

"The ladies can pull your weight," Glenn teased. Maggie smiled brightly back at him.

Satisfied, Rick walked across the street, aware of Mike's eyes on him as he beelined for Michonne.

"Excuse me, sir?" his southern manners had never failed him before. He trusted them to hold up now. Michonne's father looked up interestedly at him. "Do you mind if I borrow Michonne for a moment?"

Michonne glanced up at him, then quickly nodded to her father. "We need to talk," she confided quietly as they moved away from the crowd.

"I know," he grabbed her hand, directing them both to what soon would be town hall. "Let me show you something."

They walked past dozens of people setting up shelves and up a winding staircase, emerging on the landing of the tower that overlooked their town. Mike was just a speck up here, a minor issue. Rick almost sighed in relief. He missed being alone with Michonne already.

"I'm sorry to ask you this so early," he started, hands on his waist. "But what's going on with Mike?"

"Nothing," Michonne wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the breeze. Rick stepped in front of her, taking the brunt of the wind blowing through the balcony.

"Does he know that?" Rick asked patiently, wishing he was kissing her instead of questioning her.

"He's just jealous," she almost hissed the statement out, her face twisting in disgust. "He has no right."

Rick felt a flare of jealousy himself. He didn't like the idea of Mike at all, of something unresolved between Michonne and another man. Michonne sighed, deflated, and Rick took an encouraging step towards her. At once, she began to explain.

"My parents didn't know about Mike and I," Michonne's voice was low, her tone measured. "We didn't date that long. It was kind of unexpected, and I didn't know really what we were or what he wanted and by the time I figured it out…" she broke off, her eyes on the ground.

"Did he hurt you?" Rick's hand went to his gun instinctively.

Michonne laughed wryly, shaking her head. "No. Not the way you mean. But Mike and I would have never worked out. I know that now."

"What happened?" he wasn't thrilled to hear the details, but it clearly upset his wife. He needed to know why.

"After a couple months of sneaking around, stealing kisses…he wanted more. I considered it," she was flushing as she talked, withering. "We even met up a few nights. I couldn't—" she broke off. "He was patient the first few times, but when I asked him to go public, he wouldn't. We fought, he accused me of being frigid and that was the end of it."

Rick took a deep breath, forcing his anger down. "When did this happen?"

"A month or two ago," Michonne flicked her eyes nervously to him, then back to her feet. Rick reached for her, pulling her under his arm. She tensed up.

"Michonne," he said her name gently, trailing his fingers over her cheek.

"I'm sorry," her voice broke. "I shouldn't have dated him and—"

"Michonne," he repeated her name firmly. "I don't care who you were with before. I had a girlfriend a while back too." His fingers moved to her hair, tugging lightly. "I care that he's here, in _our_ town, trying to upset you. Say the word, and I'll throw him out." Rick would take great pleasure in it.

She glanced up at him, an expression on her beautiful face that Rick had never seen before. He held her gaze. "I think I'll be ok," she sighed, leaning into his shoulder.

"I know you will," Rick attempted to lighten the mood. "I just really wanted to kick his ass out."

Michonne laughed; the smile that graced her face filled Rick with relief. "Thank you," she told him quietly.

"For the record, I can't imagine a person less frigid," Mike would pay for insulting her, one way or the other.

"I wasn't how I am with you when I was with him," Michonne smiled, shy again. "I just didn't want to."

"Why not?" it may have been an inconsiderate question, but Rick wanted to know.

"He didn't make me feel the way you do," she said simply. Rick found himself grinning widely. He wanted her, badly. Her dark skinned seemed to glow in the light of day, demanding his touch. He wondered vaguely how he was expected to keep his hands off this woman. "We should go," she glanced over his shoulder. Rick knew that everyone was waiting for them. He settled for kissing her softly on the forehead, afraid anything more would be his undoing.

"Let's go," he took her hand and she quickly fell in step.

-l-l-l-l-

"What do you think, Rick?"

Michonne's father and Ezekiel were watching him expectantly, waiting for his answer. From beside him, Michonne nudged him gently with her hip, smoothing the map out in front of them. Rick forced himself to swallow, bringing his eyes away from Ezekiel's lieutenant and back to the matter at hand.

"We think this would make the best place for a lookout," Rick tapped his finger down.

"We?" Mike spoke up and Rick's temper threatened to explode.

"Rick and I," it was Michonne who answered, barely deigning to look up at the man who called himself her ex.

"Hmm," Mike made a condescending sound, like he couldn't quite believe it.

"Is there a problem?" Rick bristled at once, tilting his head to look at the man in question. He had half a mind to shoot him and rid himself of this thorn in his side. Mike hadn't taken his eyes of Michonne since he arrived. Rick wondered what she could have seen in this sarcastic man-child. If she asked him, he would remove Mike forcibly from their town. Unfortunately, she was handling the situation with grace. He would have to follow suite.

"No," Mike shrugged, ignoring Ezekiel's warning glance. "I'm just wondering when you two had time for all of this. I thought you were on your honeymoon."

The smirk on his face was one Rick could not tolerate. He opened his mouth to retort, but was beaten to the punch by Michonne.

"You'd be amazed what you can get accomplished without leaving bed," she announced, giving Rick an appreciative smile.

The silence was immediate and deafening. Rick became incredibly aware of the presence of her father, his cheeks warming up. Both he and Ezekiel looked flabbergasted, but the expression on Mike's face was one Rick would never forget. Jealousy was an ugly look for him.

Ezekiel began to laugh all at once, chortling heartily until soon he was joined by most of his men. Even Michonne's father smiled wryly.

"I'm glad you're getting along," he told his daughter in a tone that suggested he did not want to hear another detail.

Michonne smiled at Rick once more. He reached for her hand beneath the table.

"We want to put a secondary look-out here," he returned to work, content to ignore Mike. "And an armory below."

-l-l-l-l-

"You and I need to talk," Michonne found him in the pantry, assembling the shelves. She suspected he chose this task for its isolation. Michonne had seized the opportunity.

"Surprised you could get away from your new man," the voice that once had made her delightfully nervous now only served to annoy her.

"He's my husband, Mike," she began firmly, her hands on her hips. "We were over before I was married, and we're over now."

"Just like that, huh?" Mike peered around the shelves, pausing in his labor.

"Just like that," she confirmed.

"Your parents just pick the first country boy they like, and you just follow orders, huh?" he was trying to hide the hurt in his voice but it came through, a plaintive sound, like a child whining.

"Maybe he's who they hoped for me, but _I_ chose to follow orders. I chose Rick." Following orders were one thing in the world around them, but matters of the heart were different. Michonne had allowed the arrangement. "I don't regret it."

"What about us?" he leaned forward, hands on either side of the shelves. "All the time we spent together? You barely know that man."

"I barely know you, and we had more than a few chances to change that," Michonne stood firmly on the other side. "You didn't want me."

Mike scoffed, a chuckle rolling out of him. "I wanted you plenty. You knew that."

"And you know what I wanted," she reminded him. "I wanted a partner."

"You wanted to rush it. You wanted an errand boy." He shook his head, bewildered. "No wonder you jumped at the chance to marry him. Good ol' Rick from Alexandria. Always following the leader."

"He's the leader now. Him and me," Michonne kept her anger carefully concealed. "If you're going to be here, you fall in line or head back to the Kingdom. But _this_ ," she gestured between the two of them. "This stops today. You had your fun. Next time, I'm going to let my husband deal with it his way."

Mike rolled his eyes, but refrained from speaking, squinting at her instead. "It's like that?" he asked.

"It's like that," she assured him. "Good work on those shelves." She patted them, testing their stability. "You're staying with Ezekiel tonight in the town hall. Let me know if you all need anything."

She spun on her heel, leaving Mike alone in the pantry.

-l-l-l-l-

"This is your house," Michonne eased the door open, inviting her friends inside. "You can paint it, if we ever get the time."

Sasha and Maggie glanced around appreciatively, their heads on a swivel.

"It's right next-door to you and Rick," Maggie observed.

Michonne nodded. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Are you rushing out already?" Sasha laughed knowingly.

"Hubby's waiting," Maggie teased, waggling her brows.

Michonne rolled her eyes. "No offense, but I know you guys. I'm still getting to know Rick."

Sasha chuckled. "We get it. You were right. He seems really nice."

Maggie quickly imparted, "You still owe us a story about what happened with Mike."

Michonne smiled. "Tomorrow," she promised. She was already making her way for the front door, waving goodbye. "Maybe you guys could keep Daryl and Glenn company," she suggested, "they're right across the street."

"Maybe we will," Sasha grinned, already staring across the road.

"Dibs Glenn!" Maggie all but shouted, hurrying to fix her hair in a nearby mirror.

"Have fun," Michonne called out.

She retreated to her home with the sounds of her friends' laughter ringing in her ears. She was thrilled to see them, overjoyed that they were confident enough to live in this new town. Today, it had all become real. Soon enough, they would be the fifth community in the alliance. There was only one person she wanted to discuss it with.

"Rick?" she called his name as she entered their house, removing her shoes and heading up the stairs when it became clear that he wasn't on the lower floor. "Rick?" she repeated, heading down the hall.

"In here," he pushed his head out of their bedroom doorway, grinning at her, a towel wrapped around his waist. She quickened her steps. "I was about to sneak in a shower," he informed her as she entered. "Figured I'd cleanup for you."

Michonne's mind had gone fuzzy the moment she laid eyes on him, the lean muscles of his body bare to her hungry gaze. "I don't mind a little dirt," she whispered, not recognizing her own voice. Her limbs felt heavy, her skin flushed. She'd been waiting all day to be alone with him, truly alone.

"No?" he sounded amused. He tilted his head at her, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile.

"Rick," she needed him, needed to show him that she didn't care about Mike.

"Come here," he reached for her and she flew to him like iron to a magnet, yanking his face down to hers. She'd thought she knew hunger, thought she knew what desire was, but every night was some new way to prove her wrong. Their moans and breathing were heavy in her ears as they grasped at each other, his hands coming down to clutch her tightly around the bottom. Heat pooled instantly at her core from the contact, her desire for him almost painful. She pulled back slightly, fumbling to remove her shirt. Rick paused suddenly, looking down at her seriously.

"Her name was Lori," he said quickly. "We were together for almost a year when we were teenagers. It was just puppy love, but I didn't know any better. I think she mostly liked me because I was secure. I kept her safe. One day, I wasn't there, wasn't with her. She didn't know how to fight." The words tumbled out of his kiss-swollen lips, almost all in one breath. "She never wanted sex, and I never pushed her."

Michonne laughed despite herself. "So, we're both new at this."

"Completely. I've never met anyone like you before," Rick kissed her again, slowly pressing into her.

"I'm sorry about Mike," she whispered. "And Lori." She pushed him, walking him backwards until his legs bumped the bed. "Lay down," she instructed.

He complied immediately, flopping down onto the mattress, his head still craned up to look at her. She shrugged out of her sweater and jeans, then her underwear, Rick's eyes burning into her skin. Her hair came down over her shoulders, brushing his chest as she climbed slowly over him, kissing whatever part of him was within reach. She had some idea of what she wanted to do, but she prayed she'd be able to pull it off.

Michonne listened as her husband breathed beneath her, taking note of the places where his breath stuttered as her lips brushed over him. Carefully, she unknotted his towel, reaching down to grasp him. He groaned, his hands coming up to touch her, his fingers digging into her waist. She backed up slowly, dragging her locs across his chest and navel as she moved.

"Michonne," her name was raspy from his mouth, strained.

"Tell me what to do," she glanced back up at him, delighting in the look in his eyes. Without preamble, she set out to make him feel what she had felt their first night together in this house.

He gasped immediately, his hips bucking involuntarily, and she paused, hoping she hadn't hurt him. "You're doing great," he quickly told her. "Please don't stop."

His smoky accent egged her on and she tried again, finding a rhythm. Rick's hand laced into her hair, the gentle pressure exciting her. She began again with more fervor. His moans were like music to her ears.

"Michonne," he ground her name out. "Honey, you've got to stop, or…"

The pet name was her undoing and his. Michonne doubled her efforts, holding on for dear life as Rick jerked his hips into her.

"Fuck," the curse word came out on a long hiss, and she released him. "Holy shit."

"Rick," she sat up, watching him carefully. "Are you—"

"Get over here," he sat up, pulling her into his lap in one swoop. He pressed a bruising kiss to her mouth before moving on, sucking at her skin until Michonne was sure he was trying to kill her with pleasure. "You're incredible," he muttered, biting lightly until she was squirming in his lap.

"So are you," his mouth clasped over her again and she let out a guttural sound, her hands twisting into his hair. Her husband rolled them over, his lips back on hers, his length pressing insistently against her stomach. "Please," she didn't know what she was begging for, but Rick seemed to, his fingers coming down to stroke her until her eyes rolled back. He pushed into her and her whole body convulsed around him in ecstasy.

Every nerve ending within her was tuned to him, her mouth full of the taste of his skin, his scent like soap and the smell of the outside, his raspy voice in her ears, calling her name. She bounced against him, greedily accepting everything he offered her until her limbs burned.

"Rick, I'm—" she couldn't finish her sentence as her body released at once. He swallowed her scream with a kiss, grunting against her until he too collapsed.

She lay there, panting, her arms still wrapped around the husband she barely knew.

"I'm glad I waited for you," she whispered, her skin sweat-soaked.

"Me too," Rick smiled before kissing her again. "It was worth it."

Michonne felt something akin to absolute joy fill her up. "We should probably get to work on that shower now."

Her husband laughed, nodding. "Give me a second. I don't think I can move quite yet."

Michonne happily acquiesced.


	5. Meet the Parents

**A/N: Here's a long update for all of you! I may be MIA for a week and some change, as I have some real life obligations that are pressing. I hope this chapter holds you all over.**

 **Thank you so much for your kind words, reviews, and viewership. You are the inspiration. :)**

* * *

It was still dark outside when someone began to bang loudly on the front door. Rick awoke, instantly on alert, fumbling for his revolver. The sun was not yet up and he struggled to see in the inky darkness of his bedroom. Something underneath him began to stir, and he realized with a start that he was still laying atop his wife.

"What is it?" her voice was a concerned whisper, the sound harsh against his ear. Her arm stretched out, seizing her katana from its place beside the bed.

"Stay here," Rick pushed off the mattress, the chill immediately attacking his body as he left the warmth of Michonne and the blankets. Michonne sat up, sword drawn, one step behind him.

Rick peered out of the window, careful to keep his wife behind him as he glanced outside to their front door.

"Rick!" a voice he would have recognized anywhere called to him, banging on the door once more with fervor. "Richard!"

"Shit…" he sighed and lowered his revolver, cursing lowly.

"Who is it?" Michonne peeked out behind him, her naked body brushing against his.

"It's my mother," Rick was already moving, searching for his jeans that had been discarded at the foot of the bed.

"Your mom?" Michonne's eyes went wide. "Why is she here?"

"She's going to help—"

"Not inside the walls," Michonne shook her head, dazed. "I mean why is she here at our house this early?"

"I don't know," Rick buttoned and zipped his fly, reaching for a worn cotton shirt. "I'll go find out." Michonne disappeared momentarily from view as he completed the task of dressing. "I'm going to let her in." He kissed his wife softly on the lips, loathe to leave her, then hurried down the stairs.

"I thought you were going to keep me all day," his mother said by way of greeting, inviting herself in the moment Rick swung the door open.

"Mom, what are you—" Rick watched her helplessly as she made herself at home, busting into the kitchen.

"Where's Michonne?" she asked, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "You look a mess," she said fondly.

"Mom," Rick tried again, holding in his groan. His mother had always been a force to be reckoned with, 5 feet 3 inches of pure energy. Rick's nature favored his father's, calm and collected. His temper, however, was thanks to the woman in front of him.

"I want to see my daughter-in-law," she announced grandly. "I need to see how you've been treating her."

"She's upstairs getting ready, mom. The sun isn't even up yet." Rick glanced nervously to the upper floor. He could hear the faint sounds of Michonne rushing about.

"Thank God for that," the diminutive woman tilted her head at her son, her sand-colored waves falling loose about her face. "We have lots to do today. Tell Michonne to just come down in her pajamas. I don't mind."

"She's not wearing—" Rick momentarily forgot who he was talking to. At his mother's surprised look, his mouth snapped shut and a warm blush crept up the back of his neck.

"Already?" she sounded impressed. "I might get my grandbaby a lot sooner than I thought." She looked thrilled at the prospect. "I trust that means ya'll are getting along."

"We're getting to know each other," Rick ground out thickly, the embarrassment still lingering.

"I'll say," shame was not an emotion his mother was familiar with. "I told you that you'd like her."

"I already liked her mom," he admitted, bristling.

"What's not to like?" she shrugged. Rick did not have an answer. It did not trouble his mother. Her eyes flicked to the stairway, an expression of delight appearing over her face. "Michonne!" She rushed to greet her daughter-in-law as though she had not just woken them up abruptly.

"Mrs. Grimes," Michonne smiled, albeit tiredly, returning the older woman's affections.

"We're both Mrs. Grimes now," she held onto Michonne's shoulders, inspecting the young woman. "You'll have to call me Julie," she patted her bracingly.

"All right," Michonne's eye danced to Rick. He moved to rescue her. "It's nice to see you, Julie."

"Did you need something, mom?" Rick stepped behind Michonne, resting his hand on her lower back. Julie's sharp eyes did not miss the gesture. Her smile widened.

"I've come to steal your wife away, just for a day," she announced with flair. "Colette and I have some errands to run, and Michonne will accompany us."

"Errands?" Rick could feel a headache coming on. Beside him, Michonne watched on amusedly.

"Are we going on a run?" she asked.

Julie was delighted. "See? She's already ready. We need some time to talk as ladies. Rick, you, your dad, and Anthony can hold down the fort today."

Rick was too tired to protest, but would have made the effort if Michonne showed any resistance. Instead, his wife just smiled. "I'll get my sword," she complied, heading back upstairs.

"Mom, what's this about?" Rick seized the opportunity to ask.

"It's about getting to know your wife." She smiled at him.

Rick protested. "Mom, _I'm_ just getting to know her. You want to take her out on the road…"

"Psh," Julie accompanied her dismissive sound with a wave of her hand. "You can manage one day without her. Besides, judging by the state of your hair and those marks on your neck, you're getting to know each other plenty."

Rick flushed again, pulling up his collar. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, unwilling to give up his argument.

"I'll make sure she comes back safe," Julie's expression softened just the slightest. "She's a capable woman, you know."

"I know," Rick was well-aware. "Don't go too far," he cautioned as Michonne re-emerged, her footsteps treading softly down the stairs.

"I'll be careful," Michonne assured Rick as Julie waited near the door.

"Make sure you come back," Rick squeezed her hand. He'd lost a girlfriend on the road before. Losing a wife seemed like a far more painful possibility.

Michonne leaned up, kissing him firmly, her hand tugging at his curls. She tasted of mint and baking soda. Instantly, he craved more. "Be good today," she smiled, pulling back. "Maybe cover up your neck before you see my dad." She winced as her fingers traced his skin.

"That's _your_ fault," he pointed out, smirking. "Do you think it's too early in the year to wear a scarf?"

"A cold spoon takes the redness out," Julie's voice floated up the hall towards them. Rick groaned.

"Thanks, mom," he called back as Michonne laughed quietly. "Stay safe," he tugged lightly at her ponytail, releasing her.

"I will," she promised again, heading down the hall.

-l-l-l-l-

"Are we to expect a baby soon?" Collette, Michonne's mother, spun around in the passenger seat to observe her daughter. She was a tall, wiry woman, a former politician with a regal bearing that Michonne admired deeply. Her mother had held their family together through hellish circumstances, had helped pull another Kingdom from the ashes of the old world. For as long as Michonne could remember, her mother was a tough woman, a thinker, difficult to impress. Michonne loved her deeply, even when she came under her staunch scrutiny.

"Mom…" Michonne wanted to evaporate into the bottom of the vehicle. It had been amusing to listen to Rick being grilled this morning, but this was newfound torture.

"I'm sure you remember how human reproduction works," Collette began again, giving her daughter a knowing look. "And from what your father mentioned yesterday, you and Rick are well on your way."

"Not that we would mind, of course," Julie quickly interjected, glancing briefly in the rearview mirror, then back to the road. "But if that is something my son and you don't feel ready for…"

"We haven't talked about it," Michonne willed herself to speak, her throat suddenly tight.

"Have you talked at all?" Collette asked.

"Mom, of course. We're getting to know one another." Michonne refrained from rolling her eyes, wondering for the hundredth time how this had become her day.

"And how do you find marriage so far?" her mother refused to let up.

"We're just wondering, dear," Julie softened the question. "Since you and Rick had such little say."

Michonne paused. "We like one another," she ventured. It was the safest way to describe it.

"That's a start," Collette nodded thoughtfully.

"How does my son treat you?" Julie asked seriously, glancing over her shoulder.

"He's lovely," Michonne's response was immediate. Her mind filled up with flashes of the last few days, of the feel of his hand in hers, the way he rushed to hold every door open, the way he held her in bed as though she was a lifeline. She was smitten, to say the least.

"You dad mentioned that the plans are coming along," Collette watched her daughter's face carefully. "You've discussed them at length?"

"As much as we could in a week." In truth, it had been hard to work those first few days, but once they began, it was difficult to stop. There was a joy in shaping something themselves, the way they saw fit. Rick had picked the space for his farm, Michonne the building to begin a school. Their plans were little more than markings on a map and a stack of supplies, but they felt tangible nonetheless.

Both Julie and Collette nodded thoughtfully, seemingly satisfied.

"You know," Collette began again. "When your father and I approached Julie and Jeffrey, we had more in mind than just starting a new town."

Michonne rose a brow, wondering where this conversation was going. "Really?" Her life thus far had been about practicality, about survival. Romanticism was not a high priority.

"It was hard enough to find partnership in the world before this one. In some ways, it seems impossible now." Collette glanced out the window as though she was seeing something invisible to the car's other occupants. "You have had a heavy weight on you, almost your entire life. Rick has too."

Julie nodded, slowing the car as they approached a small shopping center. "Sometimes, you need a little push," she said cryptically, smiling at Michonne. Michonne saw her husband's grin glinting at her. She immediately warmed to Julie.

"Where are we?" she ventured, eager to get out of the car and away from this conversation.

"There's something both of you are missing." Julie killed the engine, pocketing the keys and reaching for the gun beneath her seat. Collette seized her machete.

"It's something that men used to do, at least traditionally." Michonne watched her mother shrug. "But new world, new rules."

The three women emerged from the cars, heading for the only un-plundered shop on the street.

"Jewelry?" Michonne followed the older women into the store, her fingers dancing on her katana's handle.

"Specifically rings." Collette turned to her daughter. "You and Rick need them."

Michonne took in the darkened cases in front of her, the gold and jewels glittering under the low light. She hadn't had jewelry since she was 9 years old, her glimmering "M" necklace the only remnant of the world before this one.

"I think Rick is partial to simplicity," Julie cleared the corners of the shop expertly while Collette watched the outside.

Michonne nodded, a peculiar heaviness overtaking her. She bent to her work quickly, breaking the lock on the cases and leaning inside.

"What size?" she questioned.

"10 and a half," Julie answered, stationing herself near the back door.

Michonne ran her eyes over the rings, finally settling on a handsome gold band.

"Which one are you going to pick?" Collette asked her daughter.

"I don't know," truthfully, the rings made her sad, their glittering beauty a reminder of what life may have been. Her mother sensed her mood.

"Here," Collette strode over, bending down to seize a large, velvet-lined box. Without fanfare, she swept as many rings as she could into it, filling it and clasping down the lid. "We'll give it to Rick. He can pick one for you."

Michonne swallowed, squeezing her mother's hand thankfully.

"You deserve a ring as beautiful as you are," Julie announced from the door. "You and my son deserve many beautiful things."

"I think you'll find them together," Collette straightened up.

"I hope so," Michonne tucked the ring in her hand into her pocket, suddenly nervous.

-l-l-l-l-

"It should hold for years if you take care of it," Michonne's father, Anthony, glanced over his shoulder at Rick, tapping the wall as they walked. He'd never noticed how much Michonne favored this man in front of him. Rick watched the expressions of his wife play out on the face of this stoic older man.

"We'll take care of it," Rick reaffirmed, stepping up beside him.

"Of course you will," Rick's father, Jeff, chirped in, easily keeping pace with the other men. "You two are already doing a great job."

"Michonne is sharp," Rick felt that he was pointing out the obvious, but still felt compelled to assure her father that he recognized her worth. "She's got big plans for a school."

"Have you two decided what you want your community to produce?" Anthony paused, looking serious.

"Something worth thinking about," Jeff imparted. "Hilltop farms, the Kingdom has weapons, Alexandria provides specializes in runs," Rick watched his dad tick the items off on his fingers. "What will you two bring to the table?"

"I've got an idea," in truth, Rick had been thinking about it for years. "But I haven't talked to Michonne about it yet."

Anthony rose an eyebrow but said nothing, nodding sagely. Together, the men climbed a flight of stairs to the top of the wall, gazing out over it into the forest beyond.

"You're going to need fighters," Jeff spoke after several silent moments. "And plenty of them."

"Glenn and Daryl are here," Rick leaned over, resting against a beam. "We can train more."

"Ezekiel and I are willing to lend you a few, until you have some of your own," Anthony kept his eyes out over the wall.

"I'm sure we'd appreciate that," Rick watched the man carefully, wondering what Anthony thought of him.

"You know," Anthony began, smiling slightly. "My daughter is not a slick as she thinks she is. Her mother and I knew about Mike." He chuckled to himself. Rick felt his heart skip a beat.

"She told me about him," he was careful not to betray Michonne's secrets, even to the man who raised her.

"That's more than her mom and I can say," Anthony shook his head, as though shooing a fly. "Mike's a fighter. I can understand his appeal."

"Why didn't you pick him?" Rick felt the question rush out of his mouth. Beside him, his own dad stiffened.

"Because Mike has much growing up to do. I think Michonne realized that on her own." Anthony cocked his head, observing Rick silently. "She likes you," he said at last.

"The feeling is mutual," Rick felt self-conscious, but kept his eyes up.

Anthony exchanged loaded eye contact with Rick's father, smiling just the slightest. "We suspected that," he said.

Rick flicked his eyes to his father. "What?" Jeff shrugged. "Neither of you are as slick as you think you are."

Rick snorted, forcing himself to not blush. He could think of nothing to say to refute them. Blessedly, a walker appeared on the edge of the woods, ambling slowly towards them. Rick seized the distraction.

"Daryl," he called down to his friend.

"What's up?" the man in question squinted up at him.

"You have your bow?" Rick nodded over the wall. With a grin, Daryl happily bounced up the stairs. Within moments, the walker was just a limp pile on the ground.

"Glenn and I will go get rid of him," Daryl announced, nodding at all three men in turn.

"Be careful," Rick cautioned, watching Daryl retreat. Glenn waved up at them from the base of the stairs.

"They're a good start," Jeff watched the two young men rush off. "But you'll need more."

"Mike is the best fighter the Kingdom has, beside my daughter, of course," Anthony grinned proudly. "I know that you two aren't exactly getting along, but the boy needs discipline. If you think you can handle it…"

Both Anthony and Jeff watched Rick expectantly.

"I'll talk to Michonne," in truth, Rick would rather swallow glass than suffer Mike's presence any longer. But this felt like a test and he was determined to pass.

"Good," Jeff clapped his son on the back. "Let's get moving. We have work to do."

"Since Michonne is gone," Rick seized the opportunity. "I thought we'd get started on something for her."

Anthony looked immediately pleased. "Lead the way."

-l-l-l-l-

"They'll be back soon," Jeff watched his son as Rick stared over the wall, his eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.

"I know," still, Rick's eyes did not move. The sun had gone down almost an hour ago, and Michonne and his mother and mother-in-law had yet to return.

"Your mom can handle herself. You know that. And Collette is just as capable. As for Michonne…" Jeff trailed off, chuckling. "Well, I wouldn't want to meet her in the dark with that sword."

Rick nodded absently, his eyes shifting to his father before quickly moving back.

"You know son, part of being married is trusting. She told you she'll be back, didn't she?" Jeff tried a different approach.

"I trust her," Rick turned his head this time. "It's this world I don't trust."

Jeff made a sympathetic sound low in his throat. "You need to rest, Rick. Someone else can watch for them."

"I'm fine," he mustered a grin, settling in, his back against the high part of the wall.

"Let me know when they're here," his dad surrendered, offering Rick a hug before heading down the stairs.

Rick stood atop the wall, the cool evening breeze wafting over him, his ears tuned to the sounds of the world. It was second nature by now, this hyper-awareness. Letting your guard down was how you lost people. It was how they had lost Jeffy. It was how they had lost Lori.

He sighed, flexing his muscles, taking a deep, calming breath. She would be back soon. She promised.

Scarcely had the thought left his mind when the faint flickering of headlights approached in the distance. He straightened up, watching carefully until the sounds of tires on gravel could be heard. He recognized the unusual maroon hue of the car and promptly raced down the stairs, throwing the gate open before the person on official watch could even get to it.

"I told you," Julie was the first out of the car, crossing towards her son on long steps as he shut the gate behind him. "I knew he would be waiting." She dropped a kiss on his forehead.

Collette said nothing, simply smiling as she emerged. She handed a rectangular case to her daughter, then kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Goodnight, you two," she smiled lightly at them before starting down the road with Rick's mother.

"You waited up?" Michonne's lips quirked as she joined him, her hand easily fitting in his.

"Of course," he kissed her palm, starting towards their house. "Where did our moms drag you?"

"We found a library," Michonne grinned widely. "The car is packed with books. We'll have to go back for more soon.

"As many as we can take," Rick agreed, pleased. "Let me show you something."

He turned them down the street, heading for a building across from town hall. They stepped inside, and Rick turned on one of the generators.

"Oh Rick," Michonne's gasp made the whole day's labor worth it.

"You like it?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"It's perfect," she breathed, releasing his hand and setting her box down on an empty table. Dozens and dozens of shelves lined the walls, bordering several handsome wooden tables.

"It's not a school yet," Rick shrugged, his eyes still on her. "But it's a start."

She turned around to look at him, her locs swinging gently. "I have something for you," she said quietly, fiddling in her pocket. Rick gazed back at her, puzzled. She took his hand, cupping it in her own. "I know it's a week or so late," she took a nervous breath, "But I hope you like it."

Rick opened his palm to view the golden ringlet she had placed there. His grin was instantaneous.

"Do you have a matching one?" he slid it onto his left-hand ring finger. It fit snuggly, like it was meant to be there.

She nodded towards the box. "There's a few options. I was hoping you would pick one for me." She kept her eyes on his hand, her fingers working around the new jewelry, spinning it on his finger.

"What's wrong?" Rick tilted her chin up to look at him.

"I wish we had gotten to do this in the right order," her voice was quiet, wistful. "Our moms were asking me about kids, about the plans for the town…" she sighed. "And I realized, I don't even know if you want kids."

"With you, I can see it," Rick pulled her to him. He sat on the edge of a table, settling her between his spread knees.

"It might happen soon, if we're not careful," she cocked a brow, her hand coming to splay over her stomach. Rick placed his hand over hers.

"It wouldn't be so bad if it did," he kissed her cheek.

"Are you ready for that?" she asked. "Are we ready for any of this?"

Rick paused, wondering what he could say. "It's only been a week," he began, working his hands around his hips, "We managed to get married, start a school, survive both of our parents and your ex. You gotta figure we're cut out for this."

Her laugh brought a smile to his face. She buried her head in his shoulder.

"If I had to choose, I would choose you again," her quiet confession sent chills racing through him. She moved to kiss him, catching his lips between hers with a moan. "Does the door in here lock?" she asked against his mouth, already beginning to crawl into his lap.

Rick's mind began to go fuzzy, his body tightening in anticipation. "Michonne," he called to her with his last ounce of self-control. "About the babies…"

She pulled back, perplexed. "What about babies?" her tongue flicked over the outside of his ear and Rick shivered.

"I was thinking…" he groaned as she rolled her hips against him. "Maybe we should wait a little bit."

"We'll be careful," she assured him, her fingers dancing their way below his shirt. He caught her hands.

"Hold on a second," he stilled her. "You were right about us not doing this in the right order."

"That's not our fault," she protested, pouting.

"I know," he stroked her hair, tugging at the shoulder length locs. "But maybe we should take some time to get to know each other. _Really_ get to know each other."

She stared down at him, her dark eyes clouded with lust. "You don't want to have sex with me?" she asked cautiously.

Rick had to laugh at the absurdity of it. He dragged her hand down to his lap to prove his point. "I _always_ want to. That's kind of the point. The next couple of weeks, they're going to be busy. We need to build, get planting, start training, decide what we want our town to produce. I was thinking maybe we take the next few weeks to cool down, learn something about each other."

She settled down in his lap, her more logical nature returning. Rick pressed his advantage. "I should have approached you a long time ago, should have struck up a conversation, should have courted you the way you deserved."

"Courted?" she giggled, her smile brightening the room.

"I would have liked to propose," he admitted. "But I took too long." An idea struck him. He reached for the box beside him, opening it up to a small fortune's worth of jewelry. Michonne watched him amusedly as he rifled through it, settling on an azure sapphire surrounded by miniature diamonds. He held it up. "Michonne," he began seriously, standing her up so that he had enough space to kneel in front of her. "Will you choose to be my partner in this life?"

She worried her lip between her teeth, hastily wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I'm looking forward to it," she held her hand out and Rick slipped the band up. He stood just in time to kiss her again. She settled in his lap once more. "I was thinking we could call this place Pineview," she suggested. "You know, since everyone else's names are so literal."

He chuckled. "I like it."

"What do you want our specialty to be?" she leaned her head against his.

"I was thinking," he inhaled, leaning back to look at her. "What this world really needs more of is people. If someone could've taken my family off the road all of those years back…" he broke off, unwilling to ruin the moment with a tragic story.

"You want to specialize in people?" she asked.

"Finding them, training them, keeping them safe." He hoped she would understand.

"Well then," she tilted her chin thoughtfully. "We're going to need a new name. Something descriptive." She toyed with his curls as she contemplated. "What about the Haven?"

"As in safe haven?" his heart sped up at her words.

"Seems to fit," she leaned down to kiss him again. He opened his mouth beneath hers, moaning. "Are you sure you want to wait for _weeks_?" her plaintive question made him laugh.

"Let's just see how long we can last." He stood up, moving her gently before closing the box beside them.

She sighed. "Ok, cowboy." Michonne straightened her clothing then reached for his hand. "Let's go home."

"Yes dear," he indulged her, delighting in her laugh.


	6. Busy Work

**A/N: I had just enough time to squeak out a small chapter before my work week gets into full swing. I promise I will update as soon as possible (but it's unlikely it will be this week).**

 **Thank you for reading, reviewing, sharing and messaging. Your support means the world. Enjoy!**

* * *

"If I had known how hard this was going to be, I wouldn't have volunteered to help you," Sasha griped, wiping sweat from her eyes.

"At least you're not turning as red as a lobster out here," Maggie's voice still had its bubbly lilt, even as her aforementioned skin reddened like a hot coal.

"Take my hat," Glenn spoke up almost instantaneously, removing his faded crimson baseball cap without pause. Maggie accepted it, flushing beneath her burn. Michonne did not miss the gesture.

"How nice for you," Sasha's voice was heavy with sarcasm, a stark contrast to her teasing smile. "I'll just keep sizzling out here."

"Here," Daryl offered her a bottle of water without pretense. He refused to meet her eyes as he shoved it into her hand, hurrying away to the end of the row. Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, and Sasha watched him go.

"See you!' Glenn called after his friend, barely containing his laugh. Sasha smiled, sipping the water gratefully.

"I think I'll go keep him company," she stated, screwing on the top of her bottle and traipsing away from the group.

Michonne turned to look at Maggie, expecting to exchange loaded eye contact. Instead, Michonne was treated to the sight of Maggie and Glenn conversing lowly, as though she wasn't even there. Silently, Michonne lifted her now empty tray and headed back towards a stack of potted plants along the wall. She found her husband there, bent over a second tray of seedlings.

"Our friends abandoned me," she informed him lightly, happy for the reprieve from the sun as she hunched beneath the fence. It was unseasonably warm for this late in the summer, but Michonne knew she ought to cherish the heat. The winter months loomed ahead, dark and cold.

Rick glanced up at her, grinning. "You're quite the matchmaker," he teased.

"It's not just vegetables we're growing out there," she fired back, ruffling his hair.

He straightened up, tugging lightly at a loc that had come loose from her braid. "Are you ok? I know this isn't the easiest work."

"I can handle it," she assured him. "It's the girls who are grumbling. Maggie got Glenn to give her his hat."

Rick turned to confirm this new information. He nodded approvingly. "Do you need one? A hat?" he asked, his fingers tracing her sun-warmed skin.

"Do you have one?" she asked. In three weeks, she hadn't seen her husband once don a hat.

"One," he confirmed, suddenly embarrassed. "It's not a farming hat."

"What kind of hat is it?" Michonne was curious now.

"It's a sheriff's hat. From King's County. Belonged to my dad," Rick paused, swallowing hard. "I've been saving it."

"For what?" Michonne laid a hand on his shoulder. His muscles were wound tight, the product of weeks of hard work. She wondered vaguely if he enjoyed massages.

Rick licked his lips, laughing lightly. "For our kid."

Michonne could not help the grin that split her face. "I think they'll like that. Something from grandpa and dad," she could picture it already. It had only been just shy of a month, and already, the idea of children was far less daunting. She found her mind wandering to the prospect often as she worked, pouring more effort into the building of a community now that her future children's happiness could hang in the balance. She suspected that Rick felt the same.

"From an uncle too," Rick delivered this information without looking at her, suddenly intent on running his fingers through the potting soil in front of them.

Michonne processed this, wondering what the correct response was. "Your brother?" she asked quietly. It was not the first personal detail he had confided to her without preamble, as though the secrets simply could be contained no longer.

"Yeah." Rick nodded, sighing.

Michonne's hand came to his hair again, dragging her fingertips over his scalp. It was a surefire way to calm Rick down, a tactic that served to lull him to sleep at night. Two weeks of celibacy proved that there were all sorts of ways to touch Rick. "What's his name?" she stepped closer to him, grasping his hand with hers.

"Jeff. For my dad." Rick looked up at her, smiling wryly.

"Maybe you can tell me about him sometime," she requested. Now was not the time or place. If it were up to her, she would drag her husband off, somewhere cool and dark, where they could be alone. It would have to wait.

"I will," he nodded, staring at her hard.

"I know," she kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth. The simple motion alone was enough to start her heart fluttering. She loved getting to know Rick, loved spending the time in their bed together wrapped around one another and just talking. But she missed his touch, the caress of his hands, the feeling of his lips on hers. Kissing him was enough to start her up again. With every passing day, it became harder to keep her hands off him. Every time he confided in her, the task seemed insurmountable.

"I was thinking maybe we can do some arms training tomorrow. It's getting too hot for planting. Maybe people want a break." He broke her train of thought, his mind back on the Haven. Michonne marveled for the 10th time in as many days at his ability to stay objective.

"It's not a bad idea," she confirmed. Much of the planting was already finished. What remained now were several pots of fruit trees to start a small orchard. The chore was a daunting thought in the sweltering humidity.

"Let's give them a break," he kissed her hand, his lips lingering just a few seconds too long. Michonne felt her body temperature raise another few degrees. She smiled at her husband as she strolled away, watching his bowlegged gait navigate through rows of newly planted vegetables.

She found him again that night in their kitchen, constructing a pot pie out of the hodge-podge of food that remained in their cabinets.

"It'll be nice to have fresh veggies again," Rick observed, setting their dinner on the counter to cool.

"Soon," she assured him, leaning next to him. She enjoyed this routine, the trade-off of responsibility.

He smiled at her, slicing a wedge and plating it. He repeated the action for himself, seizing both dishes and heading for their living room couch. Their dining room had scarcely seen them these last few weeks. Both of them much preferred squishing next to one another on the cushions.

"Things are coming along," Rick watched Michonne take a satisfied bite.

"They are," she agreed. Their classroom was filled with books, their pantry stocked, their fields plowed. There were people here now, citizens to take the place of their parents and Ezekiel. "It doesn't feel real," she observed. Sometimes she was sure she was going to wake up alone on her twin bed in the Kingdom.

Rick grinned at her, draping his free arm around her shoulders. "We make a good team." He spooned a large bite in his mouth, leaning contently against the back of the couch.

Michonne watched him, eating her own dinner, deep in thought. "I wish I could have met him, your brother." It was not the smoothest way to broach the subject, but it had hung heavy on her all day.

"You would have liked each other," Rick tilted his head in her direction.

"You lost him on the road?" she ventured.

"Thieves," he confirmed. "They caught us in the night. We managed to fight them off, but not before one of them cut Jeff badly. He lasted a few days before the infection got him." He delivered the news matter-of-factly.

Michonne reached for her husband, stroking his face. "I'm so sorry, Rick."

"It was a long time ago," he hazarded a smile at her.

"What was Jeff like?" she asked him.

Rick's smile lit up, his eyes far off as he recounted tales of his younger brother, of his enthusiasm, his energy, his naivete. The stories poured out in rapid succession, until their food was long gone, the plates discarded on the coffee table. Life in King's County had been quaint by Rick's account, but he missed it, the simplicity of hard work and a community, of people who knew your name and cared how you were doing.

"Maybe we'll have that again," he finished with a sigh.

"We will," if she had to work herself to the bone, she'd make sure Rick had that comfort again.

"What was DC like?" he asked her, leaning her back into his chest as he settled her in his arms.

"Busy," she laughed lightly. "Nothing like King's County. My mom was a big wig back then. I barely saw her. That didn't change when we got to the Kingdom."

"Running things is hard work," Rick mused, tucking his chin into the top of her head.

"They slowed down when I got older, but still, I learned to be pretty independent."

"Well, you've got a partner now," Rick promised her, kissing her lightly. Michonne wondered if tonight would be the night they finally gave in. "We should go to bed," he suggested. "It's been a long day."

Michonne held in her laugh. "All right." Despite her slight frustration, she fell into a deep sleep minutes after settling in bed, her husband's arm slung lightly over her waist. It was still there in the morning when they woke up.

"Target practice today," he told her around his toothbrush, his curly hair still a mess. "Would you mind grabbing Mike for me this morning?"

"Mike?" Michonne finished securing her hair into a bun, glancing curiously at Rick. They rarely talked about Mike anymore, almost as though they were content to ignore his presence.

"I need him to do something for me. Can you send him to the armory if you see him?" Rick implored.

Michonne agreed, still wondering why as she left the house ahead of Rick, heading for the practice area.

"Mike," Michonne called to her ex. He was stationed out on the street, polishing off the last bite of an apple. The man walked over, his steps slow and steady as they always were. Mike was almost always calm, even in his anger. It used to infuriate her.

"What's up?" he had been oddly cordial lately. Michonne did not fully trust it.

"Rick wanted to talk to you," she adjusted her katana.

"He can't ask me himself?" the hint of dissention seeped through his tone, but Mike quickly quelled it. "What do you think he needs?"

"He's in the armory. He asked me to send you there," Michonne watched Mike carefully. Even after lengthy discussion, this arrangement seemed shaky to her. Rick was adamant that he could handle it, that they needed Mike there, that he was invaluable. Michonne agreed from a logical point of view. Still, she did not enjoy starting this new life with Rick when her old life clung around like drying mud on the bottom of her boots. Mike was always within sight, lurking on the edge of her peripherals, deceptively calm.

"Then I'll meet him there," without another word, he headed off. Michonne debated following him, suddenly curious as to how their interaction would play out. Instead, she spun around, following the new citizens of the Haven to the western side of their town. They were already lined up in front of the targets, loudly conversating. Michonne found the source of their interest quickly.

Glenn and Daryl were having a shoot off, Glenn with his pistol, Daryl with his bow, each aiming to knock as many targets down as they could. Michonne had to admit that she was impressed. It was no wonder Rick called them fighters. They were at least as good as Mike.

"Beat that," Daryl called to his friend, smirking as yet another arrow landed where he wanted it with a resounding thunk.

"Easy," Glenn squinted, taking aim, easily puncturing the stuffed target 20 yards off.

From behind them, Michonne saw Sasha raise her gun. This time, she and Maggie did exchange a delighted look, bracing themselves for the inevitable. Ten loud pops and it was done, each target smoking in the dead center, Sasha holding her rifle proudly as Glenn and Daryl gave her shocked but appreciative looks.

"We might need to move some of these targets back," Rick's voice carried, his tone even and measured. Mike was a half-step behind him. Both men's arms were full of guns. "Here's the plan," he announced. Michonne noticed all eyes move to him at once. "We're splitting into teams. Sasha is going to take the more experienced shooters to the look out. We've rigged up some walkers beyond the wall for you to practice sniping. Glenn, Maggie, Daryl, Andrea, head out that way."

With a nod, their friends and a young but determined blonde woman headed off, taking their weapons from Mike's arms as they went.

"The rest of you, you're going to be practicing with Mike. Pay attention, listen to what he says." Rick nodded at Mike, leaving him be.

Michonne hid her confusion, watching a variety of people amble over to her ex. Rick read her expression as he walked back towards her.

"He's the most patient of all of us. And the best teacher. He can handle it," Rick seized a shotgun from the pile.

"You could teach them," Michonne reminded him. Rick was no slouch himself.

"I could," he nodded. "But I'll be busy giving you a private lesson." With a grin, he led her away from the group.

Intrigued, Michonne followed. "What makes you think I need a lesson?"

"If this were hand to hand combat, you'd be in charge no doubt, but I've seen you shoot," Rick's smirk grew wider. "And Sasha didn't make any secret of her criticism of your skills."

Michonne rolled her eyes, flushing. "I can shoot." Her protest was half-hearted.

"I know. But you need the intermediate class. And you're my only student so far." He paused, 50 yards away from the rest of the group. Michonne chanced a glance back at Mike. The group was hanging on his every word.

"Rick, are you sure this is smart?" she did not trust Mike.

"See that bald guy in the middle there? And the older one, with the fishing hat?" Rick did not point, but nodded in their direction. "They're watching Mike for me. Listening to what he says, how he acts. He's not going to act up around us. There's only one way to figure out if he's up to something."

Michonne chuckled, shaking her head. "I should have known you had a plan."

"I should have told you earlier," Rick kissed her forehead, removing her katana and handing her his Colt Python in its place. "Are you ready?"

"Are you?" it was an empty threat, but Rick seemed unaware, grinning widely at her. He came behind her, adjusting her stance, his calloused hands manipulating her arms and legs into better positions.

"Relax," his voice was a low rumble in her ear. "Aim, take your time."

She complied, unsure how he expected her to relax when his hands were on her waist. Steadying herself, Michonne cocked the gun at her target.

"You can do this," Rick soothed.

Michonne was not so sure. Two weeks had been torture. She did not know how she was going to survive another night.

"Rick," she kept her voice even, quiet. "It's hard to concentrate when you're touching me."

"Why?" he tightened his grip on her waist. Michonne was sure he knew exactly why.

"You made the stupid celibacy rule, not me," she reminded him, pushing backwards into him to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"You're saying you can't do it?" his hand traced up her arms until it reached the gun. He adjusted her grip on it.

In answer, Michonne pulled the trigger, managing to hit near the center of the target. Rick whistled lowly in appreciation.

"I can do it," she assured him, handing his gun back to him. She felt flushed beyond reason, ready to tackle him to the ground in sight of their whole community. "I'm going to go see how Sasha is doing."

She made to pick up her katana, but he caught her around the wrist. "Michonne."

She recognized his tone immediately by the shivers it sent down her spine. "Rick," she played innocent.

"I'm going to finish up with the farming. Can you handle the training?" he was all business again, except the glint in his eyes.

"I can handle it," she swung her sword over her shoulder.

"Good," he watched her begin to walk off. "Then I'll see you at home."

Her stomach rolled, certain now that they were on the same page. His dilated pupils as he watched her saunter off confirmed it.

"I'll see you there," she agreed, throwing a little more sway in her hips for his benefit.


	7. Pillow Talk

**A/N: the productive thing about having insomnia is there is much more time in the day to write. So surprise! Here's another chapter before I officially go off into the adult world for a week.**

 **I hope you all enjoy, and again, thank you for your support!**

* * *

Rick walked back from the pantry, doing his best to not sprint up the street to his house. The sun was down, the heat of the day dissipating, though the humidity clung to the air heavily. His final perimeter check had gone smoothly, the guards were on the wall, and Michonne had already sent the citizens home with food. Rick watched the lights glowing from their windows, wondering for the umpteenth time how he was going to manage keeping them all safe.

He shut his own front door snuggly behind him, throwing the lock. He slipped his boots off, padding on socked feet into the living room. Michonne was reclining on the couch, her hair twisted up on the top of her head, reading a book as though nothing was amiss.

"Hi," she glanced up at him, smiling from behind the novel. Rick found himself enthralled with her outfit, her cotton shorts clinging to her like a second skin, her tank top barely covering her breasts as she leaned back, legs up on the back of the couch.

"Hey," he watched her, feeling suddenly predatory. He kept his steps even as he walked towards her, laying one hand around her thigh while he bent to kiss her. His grip on her tightened as she sucked lightly at him, her hands still firmly on her book.

"I saved you some hot water," she pulled back with a smirk, settling back down into her book.

"I'll be back," he promised her, racing for the stairs. She made a noncommittal sound from her place on the cushions, returning to her reading.

The cold water did nothing to stave off the heat that was growing inside of him. He was starving for her, almost desperate after weeks. He'd had every intention of lasting a month, but those looks she gave him…he shivered just to think of them.

He soaped his hair up, wondering vaguely if he should shave for her. He reached for the razor, careful not to cut himself in his hurry. Michonne didn't seem to mind the stubble, but he wanted to try something different. He hadn't been clean shaven since their wedding night. He dried off quickly, considering forgoing pajamas altogether and just heading back to her. Instead, he managed to pull on a pair of sweat pants.

Michonne was still on the couch when he emerged, her legs crossed. "You shaved," she observed, tilting her head to look at him, a grin playing on her lips.

"Just for you," he confirmed, sitting down beside her. She raised her legs just enough to allow him space before dropping them lightly into his lap. Rick immediately seized them both, relishing the feel of her soft skin beneath his hands.

"You didn't have to do all that," she told him gently.

"I wanted to," it wasn't the only thing he wanted. She'd been sashaying around all day, tempting him. He knew it was partly his fault; he'd been intentionally baiting her.

She sat up, setting her book aside. Slowly, she withdrew from him, coming up on her knees beside him. Her shirt did nothing to contain her breasts as she bounced lightly towards him. Rick felt his eyes flicker down, desperate to see what was underneath.

"You know," she began, her voice low. "It's going to be getting cold soon. Do you think we should start stockpiling early? Food and dry fire wood might be hard to find."

Rick blinked, his brain misfiring. Michonne looked at him expectantly. "Uh…that's probably a good idea." In truth, it was a great idea, but he was having trouble shifting gears. She wanted to talk business, an unexpected turn of events.

"Maybe we should organize a run, test some of the citizens out. T-Dog seems capable." Her hands lightly danced up his arms to his shoulders and she rested them there, thinking.

"Yeah, he's…he's good," Rick was finding it hard to focus on the bald, dark-skinned man, not when his wife seemed content to torture him.

"Sasha too. Which means we better send Daryl. I think they like each other. Tyrese could be a good choice too." She leaned her head against him, still calculating.

"Glenn's better with that kind of thing," Rick ground out, his fingers straining for the exposed patch of skin between those tiny shorts of hers and her top. She leaned back just slightly.

"Two groups then, one for food and one to scout supplies?" her hands came back to his shoulders, rubbing lightly. "You seem tense, Rick," she pointed out.

"Do I?" words were hard to come by now. Her breasts were pressed flat against his back.

"You've been working hard," she crooned, her breath playing off his ear. Goosebumps raced up his body as she went to work, kneading his shoulders between her skilled hands.

"I'm ok," he promised her. He hadn't worked any harder this week than she had.

Michonne would not be swayed. "Maybe we should go to bed early tonight," her hands came to his neck, increasing the pressure of her strokes.

"I'm not tired." Rick was far from it.

Her fingers came to his ears, tugging gently before moving to his hair. "Maybe you need something else then." She pressed her lips to his back, dragging her hands down to his waist until they came to rest in his lap. Her fingers brushed him and Rick realized that his wife knew exactly what he needed.

"You're a tease," he accused, chuckling despite himself.

"Serves you right," she fired back, working her hands beneath his waistband. Rick groaned at the contact. He attempted to turn around, but Michonne held firm. "Tell me what you need," she whispered, tugging at him.

Rick cursed, grabbing her hands and holding them in place. "I need you," he affirmed. "I need you, baby."

She gasped at his term of endearment, rolling her hips into his back. "Then come and get me, cowboy." She released him. At once, Rick spun around, yanking her towards him, slanting his mouth over hers. She moaned loudly, uninhibited, her hands scrambling to push down his pants. Rick broke the kiss to pull her tank top away, flinging it as far from them as he could. She tumbled out and he seized the opportunity, laving at her skin with his tongue. She moaned, pressing herself into his face until he fell backwards, his back against the cushions. Still sucking at her, he reached his hand down her tiny shorts, his pride soaring at the immediate heat he found there.

"I missed you, baby," he ground out against her, delighting in her gasp as his fingers worked her over.

In answer, she pulled back, lifting off him just enough to assist him in yanking off her bottoms before settling back down on top of him, her warmth burning into him. He thrust up at her blindly, desperate to roll her over. She stilled him with a firm hand to his chest, pushing his back down into the cushions.

"Let me," she instructed, seizing him again.

"Oh fuck," he slammed his head back into the couch as she lowered herself down onto him, taking no care to disguise her plaintive moan. Michonne gave him no time to adjust, lifting herself over and over until she established a rhythm. He gripped at her hips, grasping a handful of her supple bottom. The contact caused her to jerk forward, rolling her hips.

A curse left her lips and she repeated the action, her breathing getting more labored, her gasps of pleasure driving Rick to buck up into her. In awe, he watched her convulse, the pleasure playing across her face.

"Michonne," he called up to her, unsure why he felt compelled to talk, but powerless to silence himself. "Does that feel good, baby?"

She nodded, unable to speak, her hips picking up speed. Rick snuck one hand to the front of her, rubbing lightly in a circle. "Shit, Rick," her eyes snapped shut.

"Tell me, baby," he pressed harder and her mouth fell open.

"Please," he loved that word, loved when he could coax it out of her.

"Please what?" he moved his hand away, but his wife grabbed it, pulling it back.

"Harder," she whined, her eyes opening, heavily lidded behind her long lashes.

Happily, he obliged, adjusting himself so that he could lift her slightly, one hand still pressing into her as he sped up his thrusts. She bounced enticingly on top of him, curse words and moans falling out of her mouth indiscriminatingly.

"So good," he groaned, watching her shudder. "I could do this all night."

She nodded in agreement, desperate sounds escaping her.

"I could keep you in here all week," he continued, his body winding tightly, his fingers tapping at her wildly.

"Rick," Michonne fell forward, her whole body shuddering. Rick did not break form. He doubled his efforts until she was practically shaking, tightening around him like a vice. He staved off his own release, focusing as hard as he could to control himself. Only when she began to relax, did he slip out of her.

"Are you done?" he whispered, kissing her along the hairline.

Wickedly, she looked up, her coquettish smile making him impossibly harder. "Not even close," she assured him.

"Good," with a grin of his own, Rick flipped her over, reversing their positions. "We've got to make up for the last two weeks."

Her giggle transformed again as he dove back in, not caring who could hear them.

-l-l-l-l-

The gold band on Michonne's ring finger pressed hard against his own skin as he clutched her hand tightly. He raised it above both of their heads, groaning as her free hand dug into his waist. He buried his face into her neck, her small gasps tickling his ear as he moved.

She felt like heaven, or at least the closest thing Rick had ever come to it in this new world. He knew they might be better served by actually sleeping, had attempted that very thing by moving with her to their bedroom. It didn't matter. They'd ended up reaching for each other in the dark and now here they were, her legs around his waist, her feet locked at the ankle while he held himself up with one hand, deep inside her.

"Michonne," he raised his head until his lips just brushed hers, still moving with slow, steady strokes. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, did not have the words to express what he was feeling.

"I know," she gasped against his mouth. She began to shake again, and Rick felt his whole body tense up, ready to follow over the edge. He quickly attempted to move back, mindful of what their mothers had warned his wife about. "No," Michonne tugged at him, pulling in deeper. "Stay there," she instructed, her voice full of a strange desperation.

It was enough to push Rick over. He kissed her wildly, deeply as she held him tightly. At once, it was over, and the sound of their heavy breathing was all that could be heard.

"Are you ok?" she asked quietly, releasing his waist to reach for his hair instead.

He sat up just enough to look at her. Her locs were splayed along the pillow beneath her head, her lips kiss-swollen, her skin shining with perspiration. He dragged his hand down to her stomach, feeling the planes of muscle just beneath. Her hand followed, settling over his. They looked at one another for a long moment.

"Are you sure?" he asked at last, hoping she understood.

She licked her lips, nodding. "If you're ready, I am."

Rick smiled down at her, pulling her closer to him. This world had not allowed him a lot of choice. Life to this point had been primarily filled with the task of simply surviving. But now, there was a chance to start something, to build something.

He leaned down to kiss her again and she responded in kind. "You're going to be a great mom," he punctuated his statement with one last kiss, rolling over to flop beside her.

She smiled at him. "You'll be a great dad." She maneuvered so that she faced him, one hand on his chest. He lifted it up to brush his lips on her palm. She yawned widely.

"I shouldn't have kept you up all night," he chuckled.

"Well, if we never wait two weeks again, you won't have to." Michonne laid her head down on his shoulder, relaxed. Her hands came to his hair and she threaded her fingers through his curls. Sleep began to overtake him.

"Do you hear that?" Michonne sat up, her eyes on their bedroom window.

Rick instantly came to attention, listening in the dark. Someone was hurrying up the street, taking no care to be quiet. He quickly reached over the side of the bed, seizing his t-shirt and handing it to Michonne. She pulled it over her head as he ran for his sweatpants, yanking them on. In seconds, they were both covered and heading down the stairs for the front door.

"Rick," it was Glenn, fresh from his watch. "There's something at the wall that you've got to see."

They ran to the front gate, Michonne easily keeping pace, her sword in hand. Rick charged up the stairs, accepting a flashlight from an older man named Dale, and looked over the wall.

Two adults and two children were there at the gate, huddled together and bloody. The woman, diminutive with short, spiky gray hair, looked down the moment the light passed over her, clinging to a small girl. The man, dark skinned and grave-faced, looked right back up at Rick.

"We need help," his voice was deep, weary. His hands rested on the shoulders of a young boy shivering beneath his arm.

Michonne's response was instantaneous. "Let them in," she instructed Glenn. She turned to her husband, concern barely disguised on her face. "We need to question them," she told him lowly.

"Separately," Rick agreed, nodding. "Let them clean up first."


	8. Interrogation

**A/N: I'm back! Thanks all for being patient. I hope the rest of the story is worth the wait!**

* * *

"Are you hungry?" Michonne offered the shivering woman in front of her a plate. Maggie had provided it, an apple cut and arranged artfully on the ceramic surface.

The diminutive woman shook her head almost frantically, shying away from Michonne. Her daughter, a mousy, quiet girl, peeked curiously out from around her mother. She was a cute little thing, especially now that she had cleaned up. Michonne was relieved to find no signs of abuse on the girl, save her general air of hunger.

"It's all right," Michonne soothed, more for the woman's sake than for the child's. "We have some peanut butter too." She slid the plate over. With a glance at her mother, the girl fell on the food, eagerly filling her cheeks with the fruit.

"Thank you," the gray-haired woman spoke at last, her voice soft and raspy, almost as though she was out of the habit of using it.

"Do you need anything else?" Michonne asked. The door opened, admitting in Sasha, Maggie and Sasha's brother, Tyrese. The woman's eyes flickered to the man immediately.

"Who's that?" she studied the barrel-chested new arrival, suddenly even more on guard. She shifted, putting her body in front of the little girl's.

"He's fine," Michonne smiled reassuringly, but turned to Sasha. The other woman understood immediately. One hushed conversation later and Tyrese exited the room.

"Where's Morgan?" the stranger's attentions flitted back and forth, like an animal in a trap.

"He's with my husband," Michonne leaned back in her chair, "We want to talk to both of you."

"What about?" the question was sharp, suspicious.

"Your name would be nice, to start." Michonne watched Maggie and Sasha sit around her. Maggie's attentions instantly traveled to the child. She smiled at her and the girl grinned back, peanut butter on her teeth.

"Carol," the woman clipped out. "And this is Sophia."

"I'm Michonne. This is Sasha and Maggie," Michonne pointed to each woman in turn. "Do you know where you are?"

Carol shook her head, wrapping her arms around her own body as though she was clinging to herself. "No," she cleared her throat, "No."

"How did you get here?" Michonne kept her voice light.

"Morgan, he…" Carol glanced back nervously at Sophia. "He got us out…my husband…he died...we were alone but Morgan found us."

"Found you where?" Sasha chimed in.

"Who knows? Does anyone know anymore? Out there," Carol waved her hand, gesturing to the world beyond the wall.

"Sophia," Maggie came to sit near Michonne. She smiled at the girl again. "How old is she?"

"8," Carol released herself long enough to stroke Sophia's short, dark blonde hair.

"She was born after?" Sasha's eyebrows jumped in surprise.

"She was," Carol smiled for the first time, a nervous motion, like a twitch. "Her dad…he wasn't big on thinking ahead. Wouldn't take no for an answer."

Something in the pit Michonne's stomach sunk. She remembered the men on the road, after the fences came down. Leaders were born in the ashes of the old world, but so were villains. Carol was far from the first battered woman that had crossed her path.

"Is Morgan like that?" Michonne had half a mind to get up right now and run to Rick. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Rick could handle it. His friends were with him, and Tyrese likely was too.

"No!" It was almost a shout, so loud that everyone in the room jumped. Sophia immediately curled into a ball, startled. "Morgan is good," Carol clarified. "Morgan is a good man."

"How do you know?" Maggie's question was gentle.

Carol laughed, a cough-like sound. "He saved us. Sophia and me. First from Ed. Then from what's out there."

"Did he save you tonight?" Michonne asked, her heart pounding.

"Yes," the nod came again, frantic.

"From what?" Sasha leaned forward, obviously as concerned as Michonne now was.

Carol's voice broke. She reached up, one hand on her daughter's shoulder, another pawing at her face to wipe away sudden tears. "I don't know," she sniffled and Sophia began to whimper. "I don't know."

-l-l-l-l-

"Something is wrong," Michonne kept her voice low as she and Rick walked home.

"There's always something wrong out there," Rick sighed, his brow furrowing. "I talked to Morgan. He's from near where my family started out."

"What's he like?" Michonne paused in her steps, watching the house they had just left across the street. Daryl and Sasha had agreed to guard it, leaving their four new visitors together.

"Quiet. Calm," Rick looked back as well, thoughtful. "His son's name is Duane. He said he was just a baby when all of this started."

"Carol said Sophia was born afterwards," Michonne reported.

"He mentioned that too," Rick rubbed the back of his head. He was still disheveled from their quick exit from bed. It was odd to think that hours ago, they'd been naked and in each other's arms. She wanted to go back there, wanted to run to their house and close the door and go back to bed with her husband.

"Do you think they're telling the truth?" she asked, starting towards their home again.

"Morgan said they were attacked. He said his wife got bit early on, that he found Carol a few years later. She had a husband."

"An abuser," Michonne said knowingly.

"Right," Rick nodded, "Morgan mentioned that. He said he killed him."

"Killed who?" Michonne blinked, surprised. "Carol's husband?"

"He was hurting his wife. Hurting his daughter. Morgan said he did what he had to," Rick paused at their front door. "He said it was a long time ago."

Michonne digested this, her mind and stomach turning. "Carol said they were attacked."

"Some group hit them earlier tonight, attacked their camp, chased them into the woods. Morgan knows he killed one of them, maybe two. He's pretty banged up. His boy seems all right though."

"Sophia too, that's the girl. She's skittish, but ok."

Rick opened the door, letting her inside first. "I can't imagine being born into this."

Michonne paused, her eyes on her husband. He shut the door behind him and she flicked on a light, illuminating the couch that they had been on earlier. "Are you having second thoughts?" she asked, suddenly afraid.

Rick turned, reaching for her, his hand caressing her skin. "Michonne," he began then promptly stopped, his whole body deflating. "It's been a long night."

"I know," she bit her lip, an absurd urge to cry rising through her, heating her cheeks. "It started off with you and I, remember?"

"I remember," he assured her. "And I still want those things. But the world out there—"

"It's always going to be that way," Michonne swallowed. "Even before all of this, it was bad."

"I know," Rick shifted awkwardly on her feet. "It's just a lot to think about."

"I could be pregnant already," it was the unspoken truth, a likely scenario considering the last month of their relationship. "You need to be ready for it. _We_ need to be ready for it."

"I just need time to think," Rick leaned into hug her, but Michonne pulled back. She was tired, suddenly exhausted.

"I'm going to bed," she announced. "We have a lot to figure out tomorrow. We should call a meeting. Let the other communities know."

"We will," Rick's hands went to his hips, his eyes on the floor.

Nodding, Michonne retreated up the stairs and into their bedroom. She removed her clothing, one article at a time, leaving on the brown shirt that Rick had given her hours ago. The bed still smelled like him. She tried to ignore it, turning her face away from the pillow and pulling the covers up around her. Ten minutes passed, then a half hour. She heard the front door open then shut again.

The tears came all at once, hot and heavy and fast, burning down her cheeks and into her hair. She'd long ago learned to cry silently, and tonight was no different, the emotion seeping out of her until she was utterly spent. She fell into a restless sleep.

-l-l-l-l-

"How'd they find us?" Rick found Glenn at the wall where he'd left him.

Glenn shrugged. "Looked like it was pure chance. I heard them crashing around, thought it was the geeks. Almost shot the guy when he came falling out of the trees, all bloody. He looked like he could barely stand."

"He's in bad shape," Rick glanced out over the wall. "Took a couple of stab wounds. Most of the blood on the other three seemed to come from him."

"What did he say happened?" Glenn asked, adjusting his gun.

"Attacked," the answer was not uncommon. "A group of people a mile or two off, hit them at their camp."

"How many?" Glenn's eyes continued scanning.

"He claims at least a dozen." Rick mentally calculated, wondering how many people they could fit up here, how many guns they could spare.

"Shit," Glenn breathed heavily, sighing. "What's Michonne think?"

Rick's mind raced back to his wife, of the look on her face as she retreated up the stairs. "I need to ask her." He suddenly felt ashamed.

"What's the play?" Glenn bounced side to side on his feet. "Are we going to do a search team?"

Rick almost answered yes, his mind tumbling with possibilities. "We'll go over it tomorrow. We're calling a meeting."

Glenn regarded him. "Are you going to tell Alexandria? The Kingdom?"

"We'll talk about it tomorrow." Rick was suddenly anxious, Michonne's disappointed face dancing in his mind's eye. "Will you check on Daryl after your watch ends? He's with Sasha watching the arrivals."

"Sure," Glenn nodded, attention back on the wall.

"I'm going to send Maggie up here. She's a good shot," Rick wanted as many eyes as possible on the situation at hand.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Glenn called to him as Rick resolved to wrap up his night.

The house was quiet when all of his tasks were completed. Rick locked the door behind him, heading to the bedroom as silently as he could. Michonne was in bed, tangled among the blankets. Dawn was fast approaching, but Rick removed his clothes, sliding into bed beside her. Faint tear tracks cut down the side of her cheeks. Rick reached for her, curling his body around hers. She stirred, tensing up, but did not turn around.

"I'm sorry," he knew she was awake, knew she could hear him, even with her back to his chest. "I'm sorry, honey."

"Sorry for what?" the question was quiet, muffled by the pillow.

Rick held her closer, tucking his chin into her shoulder, wishing he could flip her around. "I'm scared, Michonne." It hurt to even admit it.

"Of what?" she shifted, angling her body more towards him.

"Of what's out there. It always finds a way in." Alexandria had been attacked, and the Kingdom and Hilltop in turn. They were older settlements though, prepared.

"They'll help us, you know. We don't have to do it alone." Her voice was heavy with sleep.

"It's always going to be someone, Michonne."

She did roll over then, her locs catching beneath her as she spun. Rick lifted them free, relieved to see her face. "What's the point of this, Rick?"

The question startled him. "The point of what?"

"Of us. Of the Haven. Of _this_ ," she gestured between them. "Why did our parents start this? Put us together?"

"So we could build something," he scrunched his brow. The answer seemed obvious.

"So," she angled her body so that she faced him directly. "Are you in this with me, Grimes? Whatever comes?"

He studied the resolve on her face, marveling that she could be this strong. "I am," he told her.

"Think carefully about it," she cautioned, her expression unreadable. "You could go back home. It's only been a month. It's not too late. Someone else could lead."

"I'm not leaving you," he clutched at her, sitting up to look her in the eye. "Michonne, I'm not going anywhere."

"Then we stay. We fight. And we make a life, Rick. For us, and eventually, for others." She locked eyes with him, challenging him. "And that means you're with me, even when shit comes banging on the gates."

He nearly smiled, amused by her understatement. "I'm with you," he promised, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Then show me," she defied him, leaning backwards.

"What do you want me to do?" Rick was sure that now was an inappropriate time for it, but her resolve had awakened a familiar stirring within him.

"We need to figure this out," she said. "Find whoever it is that's out there, make sure Morgan and Carol are trustworthy. I think we should send them to the Kingdom. They have the manpower to make sure that they don't pull anything. And the kids can go to school."

"I want to send a search party tomorrow," Rick leaned his head against hers again, refusing to be separated from her. "Double down on training. We need to be ready."

"Good," Michonne nodded, seemingly satisfied. Rick laid back down beside her, his head on her pillow. He wanted to kiss her, badly, but settled instead for brushing his lips over her cheek. She turned away, her back to his chest. He wrapped up her up tightly in his embrace, relieved when she reached for his hand around her waist. "I get scared too, you know," Michonne's admission came almost as an afterthought.

Rick traced his fingers along the hem of her borrowed shirt, rubbing circles into her skin until she began to relax against him. "Don't be," he kissed her cheek again, tasting the faint remnants of her tears. "You're the scariest thing out here by far."

He laughed as her hand smacked at him, indignant. "You needed a reminder," she pointed out.

"I did," he nuzzled her, breathing in her scent. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she tilted her head back. "And I forgive you."

"Good," Rick craned forward, kissing her at last. His exhaustion evaporated away at the sound of her first contented sigh. He reached his hand beneath her shirt, stroking her. She rolled her hips back into him.

"I thought you were afraid of having a baby," she teased.

"Temporary insanity," he assured her, his other hand coming down to grasp her leg.

She laughed, moaning lightly when he cupped her. "Rick, you're going to hate yourself tomorrow," even as she spoke she arched her back into him.

"Shh," goosebumps danced down her skin while he shushed her.

"You should sleep," she cautioned, her hand coming back to grasp his hair.

"I have to make it up to you first." They both groaned at first contact, all thoughts of rest forgotten.

The sun began to rise over the Haven, but neither newlyweds noticed, still too wrapped up in one another to think about the outside world.

The light of day was a different story entirely.


	9. Investigation

**A/N: I'm getting my momentum going again. Thank you for all of your kind words and support! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

* * *

"It was here," the stoic older man pointed a few feet in the distance, referencing a small clearing between clusters of conifers. "We'd been here for about a week, I'd guess. They must have been watching us. Bypassed every trap I set to alert us."

Morgan's face creased, the lines deepening, as though he was still angry. His knuckles tightened reflexively around the staff he carried.

"How did they attack?" Rick circled the scene, leaning forward to examine the tracks. The ground beneath them was scuffed and marked with deep gashes. Rick turned around, gesturing wordlessly for Daryl. His friend stepped forward, silently observing. He nodded slightly, his eyes scanning around.

"They surrounded us." Morgan rasped out, "Started ripping into the tent. They went for Sophia first, but Carol had a hold on her. Screamed loud enough to attract the dead. Probably saved our lives."

"What do you mean?" Michonne asked. Her katana was out, held loosely in her hand. Sasha stood behind her, facing the forest around them, gun cocked. Glenn was in a similar stance on the other side, back to back with Maggie.

"I managed to fight a few of them off, got the girls and Duane out of the tent, but they kept coming." Morgan's hand moved idly towards his bandaged wound beneath his shirt. "If that group of walkers hadn't shown up, I don't know if we would have gotten away."

"What happened to the walkers?" Rick fingered his gun, every hair on his body standing at alert. The tent in front of them was slashed to ribbons, trampled into the mud until it only resembled a scrap of fabric.

"I don't know," Morgan sounded exhausted just thinking about it. "We just ran as fast as we could. Carol and Duane were dragging me near the end. Thought I wasn't going to make it. Then we saw your fence."

Michonne met Rick's eyes from across the clearing. The tiny divot between her brows was the only outward sign of her emotional state.

"How's it look?" Rick asked Daryl lowly. Morgan had retreated to some place inside of himself, staring without seeing.

Daryl exhaled, "There's blood, lots of it. Someone mixed it up real bad. At least ten, maybe more. There's walker blood too," he gestured to a congealed brown goop, nearly indistinguishable from the mud. "His story holds up."

"All right," Rick walked over to Michonne.

"I don't like this," she cautioned quietly.

"Me neither," he kept his face impassive, his eyes scanning the world around them. Someone was out there, someone who could be watching them.

"We can't lead them home," Michonne's gaze fell to the tent. "We aren't ready for that."

"No," Rick agreed, his mind spinning. "So we don't go home. Not yet."

Michonne nodded almost imperceptibly. "Let's head to the van," her declaration was louder than her hushed conversation with her husband. Sasha, Maggie, and Daryl fell in line immediately. Glenn hung back.

"What's the play?" the handsome young man prompted Rick again.

Rick nodded at him to head for the van, climbing in after Morgan and his friend before shutting the door. They were on the road, steering up the narrow spaces between the trees when Rick spoke.

"Whoever this is, they can't find their way to us." He kept his voice level. Beside him in the passenger seat, Michonne nodded.

"So what do we do?" Glenn asked again, his hand still on his gun.

"We need to find these people, draw them out. Morgan will go to the Kingdom with his people. Someone needs to go with him."

"I will," Sasha piped up immediately. "I know the way better than anyone."

"You can't go alone," Michonne looked to Daryl. He did not disappoint.

"We'll get them there." He nodded, lifting his crossbow over one muscled arm.

"Glenn, you up to go scouting?" Rick caught his friend's eye in the rearview mirror.

"I'll find them," Glenn looked almost excited by the prospect, his lips quirking at the corners.

"I'll help you," Maggie volunteered. "Someone should watch your back."

"I'm quicker by myself," Glenn pointed out, almost reluctantly.

"But you can't stay up all of the time. We'll take it in shifts," Maggie shrugged as though the whole affair did not overly concern her. "I used to scout before all this. I know the area around the Hilltop better than you do. We need to warn them too."

"We will," Michonne assured her. "Go."

"So I'm being shipped off?" Morgan asked calmly.

"Just until we know what we're facing." Michonne gave him her full attention, turning her large brown eyes towards the man. "We can't risk Sophia and Duane's safety."

Morgan watched her, his expression solemn. "We've been out here a long time," he said, the exhaustion heavy in his voice.

"One more move," Michonne promised him. "Let us take care of this, then come back. Help us build something for Duane. For Sophia."

A silence settled inside of the van, heavy and smothering. Rick focused his attentions on the road with difficulty, weaving between the trees.

"There's always another fight," Morgan sighed after much ado.

"It helps when you can pick the fight," Michonne responded, looking at him pointedly.

Morgan simply nodded, turning his eyes out the back window, his staff still clutched tightly in his hands.

"She's quite a woman," he observed later. Rick had brought the van around to the back of the Haven, concealing it about a mile outside the gates.

"Michonne?" Rick was startled at the compliment.

"She reminds me of my wife." Morgan watched as Michonne directed the group. "How long has she been yours?"

Rick was instantly on edge. "We're still new at this." Sometimes it felt as though Michonne had been there the whole time.

"What are you willing to do to protect her?" Morgan tilted his head, studying Rick.

"Anything," the answer was out of his mouth at once. Rick stewed over this comment, his mind tumbling. There was no situation in which he imagined losing Michonne, not for any reason. His fear had transformed into a steely resolve. He would find these people, they would find them together and eliminate them. Michonne deserved that world. Rick suspected that Morgan deserved that as well.

"Good," Morgan sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Chances are, you're going to have to."

"She can handle herself out there," Rick said. "She'll probably end up saving me more than I do her."

Morgan smiled at that, his face crinkling awkwardly, as though he'd forgotten how to do it. "That's a rare thing. Hold onto it."

"You'll be safe at the Kingdom," Rick turned the subject back to the matter at hand, suddenly anxious to return to Michonne. She was off in the distance, conversing urgently with their friends. Rick knew she was briefing them further on the plan.

Morgan nodded. "We appreciate this. Been out there a long time."

A time long ago rushed back to Rick, of sleeping on the streets, his brother behind him. He felt a surge of pity for Morgan. "You're home now," he told him, clasping him on his shoulder. He took in the man in front of him, realizing with a start that Morgan couldn't have been much older than he was. Underneath that weathered exterior was a man who was tired, plain and simple. "We'll clean this situation up and then you and Carol can pick a house out here."

Something lightened in Morgan's face, a flicker of what could have only been hope. "The kids will like that," he murmured. "I'll go tell them," he sped up.

"Remember," Michonne reminded, after they arrived at the front gates an hour later without incident. "It's business as usual. No one inside needs to know. No sign that we're nervous."

Their friends nodded. Rick appreciated them tremendously, his confidence growing.

"We'll leave tonight," Sasha told her.

"No," Michonne shook her head. "Early in the morning. Whoever these people are, they move in darkness. Don't give them the opportunity to edge you out." She looked to Rick. He nodded at her.

"Go get your supplies. Morgan, you might want to talk to Carol," Rick was eager to get on with it. He needed to be alone with his wife. The group dispersed, preparing for the days ahead.

"Sasha's our best shot, but Tyrese is fair at it," Michonne's mind was hard at work. "Mike needs to be up on the wall too. We should put snipers on every side of the gate."

"I miss when Mike was our biggest problem," Rick lamented, chuckling.

Michonne cut her eyes at him, a faint smile on her lips. "He's nothing we need to worry about. Not now."

"I know." Rick watched as their dozen or so community members moved around. "T-Dog, Andrea, a couple others…they're ready to fight. We can start shifts, put patrols up along the inside perimeter. Everyone stays armed until we can figure this out."

"We need to talk to Mike. See who's leading in the class. Want me to do it?" Michonne asked.

"I've got it," Rick reached for her hand. She took it without pause. "What do you think?"

"I think we're going to be ready." She looked around. "We need to go over the walls, cut back any trees that could be used to get over. It'll help with the firewood situation too. Winter is coming soon. If they're going to move, it won't be long."

"We'll be ready," he assured her, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "Morgan admires you."

"My gut says that he's a good man. Carol is skittish as a deer. He's the only thing that calms her," Michonne looked fondly at Rick, squeezing their joined fingers. "He'll be a good addition to the Haven one day."

"If you trust him, I trust him," Rick exhaled. "He said they went for Sophia first."

"I wondered about that too. Most bandits, they would just slit throats, go for the women. Kids don't mean much," Michonne looked troubled.

"Could be a coincidence," Rick didn't believe it, even as the words left his lips.

"Could be," Michonne clearly did not believe it either.

"We'll finish this quickly," Rick promised her. Winter was coming, and he had plans to put in action before that. By next summer, they could have an addition to their family. He would make sure they were safe before that.

Michonne smiled at him, reaching forward to hug him. Rick tucked her beneath his arms, Morgan's words echoing in his ears. He kissed her, gently, mindful that their citizens were within eyeshot. From his peripherals, he noticed Mike, standing across the street, watching them.

"I'm going to go check the inventory," Michonne kept her eyes on Rick, her fingers toying with his hair. "I'll see you for dinner?"

"I'll be there," Rick kissed her hand, reluctant to let her go.

"Then I'll see you tonight," despite the events of the day, she looked enthused at the prospect. Rick felt something in his chest contract.

"I love you," it fell from his mouth casually, as though he had said it to her hundreds of times.

She paused in her tracks, her lips parting in surprise. "I love you too," she said, suddenly shy. Rick grinned back at her. She smiled at him before walking away, turning once she was across the road to look at him again. He was sure that Sasha and Maggie were going to be getting an earful soon. The thought was somehow comforting.

"Mike," he approached the other man, aware that he had seen and likely heard their exchange. Mike's face betrayed nothing, but there was something in his eyes that Rick recognized. "I need to talk to you."


	10. On the Road

**A/N: I have some things in my personal life I need to be writing, so I'm churning through this story while the inspiration is fresh! Thank you for reading and for all of your kind words.**

* * *

"You don't talk much, do you?" the young girl glimpsed curiously around the car.

"Who are you asking?" Duane asked. The 11-year old had been reclining in the backseat between his father and Carol, sandwiched into the middle seat with Sophia.

"All of them," Sophia shrugged. "No one's talking."

"Nothing to talk about," Daryl grunted. He shifted the crossbow in his arms, the deadly end pointed out towards the window.

From the driver's seat, Sasha smiled just the slightest. It had been a silent hour, the low light of the morning and the quiet of the day only broken by the sound of leaves crunching beneath the tires. Fall was in full effect. There had been a time when it was Sasha's favorite season. Fall meant warm apple cider, candied apples, Halloween and Thanksgiving, holidays from school with Tyrese. Those were luxuries of a world she hadn't seen in a decade, a world held only in the foggy recesses of childhood memories. She watched the two children in the backseat, realizing with a start that they knew of none of these comforts, had no memory of the world before to keep them company in the long hours of the night.

"Why don't we play a game?" Sasha suggested tentatively, waiting for the reaction of the two adults that she was in charge of delivering to safety.

"Like what?" Sophia leaned up eagerly. Duane mirrored her.

"I Spy?" Sasha grasped for a driving game, the rules unclear in her memory.

"I know that game," Duane announced, inordinately pleased. "Mom used to—" he broke off at once, sadness overtaking him. His father rubbed his head reassuringly.

"Show us how mom used to play it," Morgan requested, smiling slightly. Sasha's affection for him surged. Carol continued to watch silently as the children launched into the game, calling out trees and rocks and rusted street signs.

Daryl kept quiet, his eyes on the road, only interjecting when necessary.

"How's it looking?" Sasha used the laughter of the children to ask her partner a question.

"Quiet," Daryl kept his gaze on the outside. "Still, we shouldn't hang out here too long."

"We're about a half-hour out," Sasha calculated, taking a deep, steadying breath. She'd made this trip often, mostly with Michonne and Tyrese at her side, bouncing between the communities when it was their turn to do deliveries. The dangers of the road were so familiar that it was almost comforting, at least when she was with capable adults. Morgan seemed able enough, but Carol she could not get a read on. And the children…

She wasn't going to let anything happen to the kids. Not on her watch.

"Good," Daryl grunted, nodding. "I'll be glad when this is over."

Sasha knew what he meant. The Kingdom had resources, warriors, and brick walls. If anyone could keep the kids safe, it would be Ezekiel, and Michonne's parents.

"What's the Kingdom like?" Duane piped up, suddenly inquisitive.

"It's nice." Sasha smiled at him in the rearview mirror. "I grew up there. My brother and I."

"Will there be other kids?" Sophia questioned.

"Plenty of them," Sasha nodded. "You'll make friends fast."

"Why couldn't we stay with you?" Duane asked.

Daryl and Sasha exchanged testy eye contact. Carol spoke up.

"They have to get our house ready. So while they do that, we're going to make friends at the Kingdom." She looked down at the kids encouragingly.

"Just wait until ya'll get a look at the tiger," Daryl spoke up at last, glancing back at the kids.

"No way," Duane's mouth dropped open. Sasha saw Morgan and Carol laugh for the first time. Even Daryl chuckled. She found that she liked the sound immensely.

"Almost there," she announced, speeding up.

-l-l-l-l-

"So how's this tracking thing work?" Maggie asked from the passenger seat.

"Normally, we go on foot. But since the Hilltop is far away…" Glenn shrugged, swiveling his head as he looked at the road around him. "But while we're here, you keep an eye out for anything strange."

"Like what?" Maggie raised a brow, prompting him again.

"Like…" Glenn swallowed hard, inwardly cursing his nervousness around the pretty brunette. "You know the way to Hilltop right? You've made the trip a lot?"

Maggie nodded. "Sure."

"So…look for anything different. Anything at all that's out of place, or seems weird."

"Weird, how?" her eyes were already out of the window.

"Go with your gut," Glenn looked at her, admiring her enthusiasm. She didn't seem daunted at all by the situation they were in.

"All right," she tucked her hand under her chin, still staring at the world outside.

"So…your family is all at Hilltop?" he asked, eager to know more about her.

"My dad and sister. My mom died before any of this started. My dad's a doctor there. Used to be a vet a long time ago." Maggie recited this as though from memory. "Where's your family?"

"They didn't make it," it had stopped hurting so bad years ago, but it was jolting to have to explain the situation to a person who didn't know. "Luckily, I ran into Rick and his folks. Saved them in Atlanta. Tagged along with them after that." It was the very abridged version of the tale, but Glenn did not feel like dredging up that old pain.

"And Daryl?" Maggie asked. "What's his story?"

"He had a brother. Kind of a piece of shit guy, to be honest," Glenn chuckled. He did not miss Merle, even though he knew Daryl did. "they joined up with us just outside of Atlanta. We had a whole group."

"Are they in Alexandria now?" Maggie looked over at him.

"Some of them," far fewer than they had begun with.

"We all lose people out here, don't we?" Maggie sighed, tugging at her shoulder length waves.

"That's the world now, I guess," it was a colossal understatement. Still, Maggie smiled wryly at him.

"Maybe we can help make it safer," she said. "Even just a little bit."

"I'd like that," Glenn grinned, flushing. Her smile was enough to make him blush.

"You know," Maggie began slowly. "It's pretty out here."

"It is," Glenn agreed, eager for the change of subject.

"Almost romantic," Maggie ventured. Glenn felt his blush deepen.

"Yeah…" he stuttered, clearing his throat. "I guess it could be. Under the right circumstances."

"We'll have to take this trip again then," Maggie's eyes were on him, wide and suggestive.

"I'd like that," Glenn blurted. "I mean…sure." He mentally kicked himself. He had none of Daryl's aloofness or Rick's calm confidence. Maggie didn't look as though she minded.

"Maybe I'll kiss you, when all of this is over," she mused, turning back to the road.

Glenn sat in the driver's seat, shell-shocked. Unwittingly, his foot came down hard on the gas, lurching the car forward. Maggie braced herself on the dashboard. Sheepishly, Glenn eased off the pedal.

"Sorry," he coughed.

"Don't be," Maggie gifted him with a smile again. "Did you know that Rick told Michonne he loved her?"

Glenn blanched at the information, startled by the sudden shift in conversation. "When?"

"Yesterday, I guess," Maggie shrugged, still scanning. "Michonne was practically giggling all day."

"That's nice," Glenn was unsure how to respond. "They seem really good for each other."

"Do you think people can fall in love that fast?" Maggie asked.

"I… don't know. Rick's not a liar, so I guess they can." He had a million questions for his friend now, and no means to get the answers anytime soon.

"I wonder if you just know immediately when you meet someone," Maggie sounded thoughtful. "Or if it's just a moment all of the sudden."

"I wouldn't know," Glenn felt the flush creeping back up his cheeks. He turned his face away from her to look at the road. Trees rushed by. The familiar landscape relaxed him.

"I wouldn't know either. I've only kissed one boy." She screwed up her face at the memory. "It definitely wasn't love."

Glenn nodded, willing his skin back to its natural color. Maggie's eyes were on him again.

"I think I will. Kiss you, I mean," she clarified.

"I'll kiss you back," he blurted, wanting to disappear beneath his hat.

"Good," Maggie turned away again. A silence stretched between them. Glenn's mind raced. Maybe he'd have time to talk to Rick before any kissing began. Maybe there was a trick to it…

"Wait a minute," Maggie sat up straight. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Glenn looked out her window.

"That…" Maggie pointed. A group of trees had fallen in the road, splintered as though the wind had knocked them down. It set Glenn's hackles off immediately. He'd seen plenty of storms, but none so selective in their destruction. "That wasn't there before. We should go look." Maggie insisted.

"Maggie…" Glenn slowed the car but didn't stop. "We should get to Hilltop first, get reinforcements."

"It could be gone by then," she insisted. "You told me to go with my gut. It's telling me to look at those bent back trees over there."

"Well, _my_ gut is telling me not to get out of the car," Glenn argued, still driving.

Maggie looked ready to fight for her opinion. "Rick and Michonne said—"

Glenn felt his voice getting louder, cracking. Something was not right at all. "Rick sent me because he knows I know what I'm doing. And I think we—"

Their confrontation came to a violent interruption as their front right tire suddenly blew. The car jerked forward. Maggie was just able to catch herself on her hands before she slammed her head into the dash.

"Shit," she breathed, her argument forgotten.

"Get your gun," Glenn didn't recognize his own tone. It was urgent, almost angry. He reached for his own weapon.

"Maybe we just hit a pothole or something," even as the words left her mouth, Maggie sounded like she knew better.

Glenn barely heard her, his eyes on the group emerging quickly from the forest. "Get down!" he cried, pushing Maggie's head into her lap.

The bullet just missed her, shattering through the windshield before lodging into her headrest. Glenn threw the car in gear, driving on the shredded rubber as he tore up the road.

"How far are we from Hilltop?" he asked, screeching up the street.

"A few miles!" Maggie cried, lifting her head to look back. She returned fire, hitting one of the cloaked figures. The car smoked beneath them, throwing sparks.

"We're going to push the car until it can't go anymore," Glenn decided, "Then we run for it. Stay together. Follow me." He looked at Maggie, praying that she wouldn't argue with him on this. "Promise?'

"Promise," the fear in her eyes shone bright. She clutched the seat as their assailants faded into the distance, getting smaller and smaller. The car slowed, burned down to its rim.

"On three," Glenn announced, undoing his seatbelt. "Stay on my tail." He chanced a glance at her. She mirrored his actions. "One, two, three!" with a nod, they both leapt out and took off, pounding up the pavement.

Glenn sent up a silent prayer that they would make it.

-l-l-l-l-

"That went smoothly," Sasha stood at the gates of the Kingdom, watching as King Ezekiel welcomed in his new guests.

"Too smooth," Daryl remained on edge. He paced, eager to get back on the road before the sun set.

"What do you mean?" Sasha asked him. She adjusted her gun on her shoulder, giving him her full attention. Daryl liked that about her, liked her seriousness. She knew how to handle herself.

"I think we should go to Hilltop." It was an almost irresistible pull, an instinct deep in his gut.

"Maggie and Glenn," Sasha reminded him. "They're handling that. We were supposed to tell the Kingdom."

"And we did." He nodded towards the high school compound behind him. "They're ready for it. Hilltop ain't got fighters." They'd wasted enough time here, exchanging pleasantries, and eating, and gabbing. There was a fight about to happen. He had no time for such frivolities.

"You think they'll be attacked?" Sasha asked sharply.

"I think we're being watched." Daryl admitted. He knew it, as sure as he knew himself. Something was out there.

"Hilltop's an hour and a half away." Sasha mused.

"So we leave now. Gun it. Get there by nightfall." He was doing this, whether she was coming or not.

"Ok," to his surprise, she nodded, already moving towards their car. "I'll drive. You watch for who's watching us."

"All right," Daryl felt himself smiling just the slightest. He followed Sasha to the car, hopping in. They were gone almost as soon as they came, speeding up the road with a full tank of gas.

"You think something is wrong?" she asked him a hour in, her expression serious.

"I hope not," Daryl told her. He almost felt bad for worrying her. Still, his gut had never steered him wrong.

"Shit," she breathed out, her eyes on something smoking just up the road.

"That's Glenn's car," Daryl cursed under his breath. Something in his chest clenched. He couldn't lose a friend, not like this. Sasha slowed down. "Stay in the car," he told her. "If someone attacks, gun it to Hilltop."

Sasha nodded, gun out and cocked. "I'll cover you," she told him.

Daryl crept to the car, scared to even look in the front seat. He almost choked on his relief. He took a moment again to look at the tracks, quickly surmising.

"They ain't here," he called back, jumping into the car with Sasha. "By the looks of things, they were hauling away from something fast."

"We have to go," Sasha threw the car in gear, speeding up.

"They made it," Daryl said. "They had to." He told himself he was being optimistic for Sasha's benefit, but he needed to hear it too. Glenn was his brother, one of the few good things about this world.

"We'll save them," Sasha glanced over at him, her expression steeled.

"We'll save them," Daryl repeated.


	11. Bleeding and Waiting

**A/N: Moving right along! Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

* * *

Rick was heading towards the border, looking for Michonne, when he saw Mike.

The other man was standing a few yards away from the base of the stairs, glowering intensely at the wall above them. Rick didn't need to be told who he would find if he were to continue on his journey. Rick paused, shifting his attentions, momentarily derailing his mission.

"Mike," he called out lowly, coming to a stop beside the man.

"Hey," Mike's gaze remained unmoved. "She's up there, you know."

"I know," Rick almost scoffed. "Where do you think I'm headed?" His wife was never far from his thoughts. He knew exactly where she was.

"She's worried?" Mike asked.

"Probably," Rick adjusted the bag around his shoulders. He had a long night ahead of him, and he was eager to get on with it. Still, this situation required some attention. "I'll take care of her."

"She likes you," Mike's head turned in Rick's direction just slightly. It was as though the man had just realized this, or at least accepted it.

"She _loves_ me," Rick corrected. He'd say it a million more times if he had to, until Mike understood.

Mike sucked on his teeth, looking like he wanted to argue, then thinking better of it. "I think I'm going to go back," he looked back up at the wall. "To the Kingdom."

Rick nodded. It was for the best and Rick wouldn't miss him, but there were extraneous circumstances now. "I've got no right to ask you this, but I'm going to. We need fighters, especially now. Stay until they get back. Help us keep this place safe." He couldn't lose more warriors, not with Glenn, Daryl, Sasha, and Maggie on the road.

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Rick thought he would have to plead his case, a rather unpleasant prospect considering the circumstances. Still, the safety of the Haven, and of Michonne, came first.

"I'll stay," Mike said at last, so quiet Rick could barely hear it. "Just until they get back."

"Thanks," Rick supposed that there were hundreds more words he could exchange with his wife's first romantic dalliance but it seemed unnecessary. It had taken a month, but Mike seemed to finally understand.

"She's a good girl," Mike exhaled, deflating.

Rick almost pitied him, but Mike's loss had been his gain. Even if they hadn't had an arranged marriage, Rick suspected that he would have fought for Michonne.

"She's a great woman," Rick agreed, attentions wandering back to his wife. He'd wasted enough time. With a nod, he left Mike, walking quickly for his original destination.

He found her at the top of the stair, nestled against the walls of the small lookout point, huddled inside of her jacket with her katana on one side of her and a rifle on the other.

"You shouldn't worry."

Rick's voice caught Michonne off-guard, startling her. She turned from her place, a stunned look on her face. "Rick," she smiled at the sight of him.

Rick walked the space between them, moving her rifle in front of them so that he could lower himself to the ground beside her. "You're worried about our friends," he began, removing his backpack. "You shouldn't be. They can handle themselves." They'd all done this dozens and dozens of time since childhood. Rick was confident in their abilities.

Michonne nodded, turning her head back out to look over the wall. "They should have been home hours ago."

Rick unzipped the pack, yanking out the folded blanket inside. He spread it across her lap first, making sure her katana was within reach, then pulled a corner over himself. The size of the blanket necessitated that he draw closer to her. Neither of them minded. Michonne leaned into him, her proud posture folding in all at once. Rick wrapped his arm around her.

"They'll be back," he assured her. "Glenn can handle himself. So can Daryl. And the girls? I wouldn't want to mess with them." She laughed lightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

"What if they don't come back?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Then we go get them in the morning," Rick reached for the gun, dragging it closer to them. He already had the car packed and near the wall, just in case.

Michonne nodded, reaching for his hand beneath the blanket. She clung tightly to him. "I love you," she whispered, kissing him gently on the cheek. It thrilled him to hear those words, especially a second time. He was going to have to get her alone once all this was over, show her just how much he loved her.

"I love you too," he turned his head, catching her lips with his own. They broke apart reluctantly. Michonne shifted, stretching her legs out in front of them. Rick emptied the backpack, removing a bottle of water and an apple to share, setting them down beside them. With a deep breath, he leaned against the wall, joining his wife on her vigil. Before them, the night stretched out, quiet and oddly peaceful.

"They'll be back," he repeated for both of their benefits.

"They will," she agreed.

-l-l-l-l-

"Almost there," Maggie dug her heels into the damp ground beneath them, all but dragging Glenn up the hill. She could see the faint outline of the wooden walls of her childhood home, imposing in the inky darkness of the night.

"Maggie," Glenn winced, the would on his leg dripping. Both his jeans and hers were stained a deep red. "You should go. They could come back."

"No," she would not entertain the idea. "We're almost there. Stay with me."

His feet slipped beneath them but Maggie gripped his arm firmly. They would make it. They had to.

"Maggie," Glenn's voice was raspy, getting duller by the moment. "I'm not going to…" he trailed off, his head lolling.

Frantic, Maggie reached for his wound, pushing the palm of her hand against the shredded and soaked fabric. That last bullet had caught him in the upper thigh, near his artery. Maggie contemplated the reality of stopping to create a tourniquet, but quickly discounted the idea. She knew they were still out there, whoever they were, waiting. If she could just make it the last quarter mile, they could both make it.

"Hold on Glenn," she steadied her voice, swallowing her tears. They were going to make it. They had to.

The headlights behind them struck pure fear into her heart, but had the advantage of lighting the way in front of them. With her last burst of strength, she sped up, intending to drag the man on her arm all the way up or to die trying.

"Maggie!" it was the last voice she expected to hear, and for a moment, she could have sworn it was a hallucination. She chanced a glance over her shoulder and immediately began to cry in relief. Sasha was reaching for her from the open door of a car, gesturing to pull both of them to safety.

"Get in," Daryl's voice was the loudest she'd ever heard it. Maggie complied immediately, shoving Glenn into the backseat and jumping in after him. Sasha floored the gas pedal before the door had even closed behind them, bouncing up to the Hilltop.

"Who was it?" Maggie's friend asked, her voice measured and calm. Maggie drew comfort from the familiar sound.

"I don't know," she wished she could remember, wish she had gotten a better look. "Their faces were covered," she took a deep breath, steadying herself. Daryl was reaching between the front and back seats. He thrust his crossbow into Maggie's hand and pulled off his shirt, bundling it up and over Glenn's leg.

"What, in masks?" Sasha continued her questioning.

"No," Maggie shook her head, stroking Glenn's skin. He was starting to go cold. She covered his body with her own as Daryl busied himself elevating Glenn's leg. "They had fabric on their face, almost like scraps. All different kinds."

"Why'd they stop following you?" Hilltop was right in front of them now. Sasha flashed the lights, giving the signal.

"They didn't," Maggie was almost afraid to look out of the back window. Sasha did not give her time to take in their surroundings, speeding into the gates. They slammed shut behind them. "I think they were just waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Sasha's head whipped around, even as the car was surrounded.

"For us to fall," Maggie felt the tears again. Daryl threw the door open, seizing Glenn and carrying him like a child out of the vehicle. Maggie was right behind him.

"Someone get the doctor!" people were yelling, reaching for them. Behind her, the fighters were heading to the gate.

"Maggie!" The girl in question spun to see her little sister, Beth, running towards her, their father behind them.

"Daddy, you have to help him," Maggie nearly collapsed. Behind her, Sasha braced her, keeping her steady.

"Bring him into the house," Hershel's even instructions were immediately followed. Daryl ran ahead, his friend still in his arms. Maggie and Sasha trailed after.

"He's ok," Sasha told her. "Your dad will fix him."

Maggie began to cry, watching Daryl disappear, Glenn pale and limp in his arms.

-l-l-l-l-

The blood on his chest was off-putting. Daryl looked comically out of place among the plush settings of the big house at Hilltop, dirty and shirtless save for his leather vest.

"Here," Sasha pressed a wet towel into his hands insistently. Wordlessly, he accepted. "Hershel said that Glenn's stable. They had enough blood on hand to save him. Thank God they stockpile as much type O as possible." She smiled weakly, attempting to comfort the man.

"He's going to live?" Daryl asked, voiced raspy and tired.

"He's going to live," Sasha nodded, sighing. "Maggie's with him now. She said she'll get us when he wakes up."

Daryl nodded, holding the towel idly in his hands. Sasha coaxed it back from him, wiping at his face. He allowed her ministrations, silent as she wiped his friend's blood from his chest.

"These assholes are still out there," he mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"They are," Sasha set the towel down, satisfied with her work. Her mind was racing, adrenaline still coursing through her body. Watching her friend limp up a hill, covered in blood and dragging her partner was something she hoped she would never have to see again. The relief she felt that they had made it in time was nothing compared to the rage. "It'll be dawn soon," she observed, glancing towards the window.

Daryl looked at her, narrowing his eyes. His fingers drummed along his crossbow. Sasha stood up, reaching for her gun.

"Let's go," she instructed.

Silently, he followed her, dogging her steps as they headed for the gate.

"What's the plan?" he asked.

"Find them. Shoot them." Sasha checked her ammunition. "Maybe bring one back for questioning."

"Good plan," Daryl grinned at her.

With a nod, Sasha led him back to the gates.

-l-l-l-l-

"He's your friend?" Beth's lilting voice asked. She was seated beside her sister, a breakfast tray on her lap.

Maggie nodded, tired, drained, but unwilling to sleep.

"He's going to wake up," Beth sounded confident. "Daddy's the best at what he does. And he seems tough." Beth smiled at the sight of Glenn in bed, taking in his appearance. "He's handsome," she observed.

Maggie looked gratefully at her sister. "He is," she knew there would be time later to discuss it, but for now, her place was here.

"Eat something at least," Beth instructed kindly, sliding the tray towards her sister. "I doubt he would want you here all hungry. Plus, you'll have to go back soon. The people at home will need to know."

"I've missed you, Beth," Maggie smiled fondly at her.

"I've missed you too. Daddy's thinking about letting me move. Maybe after all of this mess clears up." with a serene smile, Beth was back on her feet. "I'm going to check on your friends. Call me when he wakes up."

Maggie watched her go. Her stomach rumbled insistently. She picked at the toast, guilty for enjoying the simple pleasure while Glenn laid pale beside her.

"That smells good," his voice, weak but full of humor, nearly made her jump out of her skin.

"Glenn," she pushed the tray aside, reaching for him. "You're ok."

"Maybe not _ok_ ," he corrected, a smile on his face. "But alive. We made it."

"We made it," she repeated.

Before she could think better of it, Maggie leaned forward and brushed her lips against Glenn's.

"Totally worth getting shot for," Glenn's grin widened when she pulled back, sitting next to him on the bed. "I promise I'll do better when I'm done bleeding."

Maggie laughed, relief filling her body. "You did fine," she assured him, reaching for his hand. "Daryl and Sasha are here," she told him. "I'll go get them."

She opened the door of the room to look for their friends. All she found was a damp and dirty towel hanging over the windowsill.

"Where'd they go?" Maggie asked the empty hall.

-l-l-l-l-

"What's that?" Michonne straightened up from her place on the wall, looking out into the distance.

"What do you see?" Rick emerged from the car just inside the gates, glancing up at her urgently.

"I think it's Sasha's car," Michonne's heart began to flutter, a sense of relief filling her so quickly that she nearly collapsed from it. She and Rick were just moments away from heading outside the walls, having decided that it was time to go look for her friends.

"Is everyone with her?" Rick ran up the stairs, pausing behind her, his hand steadying her at the waist.

"I can't tell," she felt dizzy, anxious.

"C'mon," Rick had the gate open before the car even arrived, shooing them in. Daryl was hanging out of the passenger seat, bare-chested aside from his vest, and covered in what Michonne realized were the faint traces of blood.

"What happened?" she danced around the car as it rolled to a stop, all but yanking Sasha out of it. Her friend embraced her, her body shaking.

"Glenn and Maggie are ok," Sasha assured her. "They're at Hilltop. Hershel is looking after Glenn."

"What happened?" Michonne felt like she was going crazy repeating herself.

"Michonne," Rick touched her lightly, his hand on her back. The contact was instantly relaxing.

"We can talk about it at the house," Michonne had momentarily forgotten about their audience. The people of the Haven were peeking out of their homes, concern etched on their faces.

"One second," Daryl clasped Rick on the shoulder. "We've got something to show you first."

Without further ado, he popped the trunk. Michonne held in her gasp.

"Who the hell is that?" she asked.

Sasha smiled. "We brought you one back."


	12. Realizations

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback! I'm still trucking along, trying to get the story done before real-world projects pull me away. let me know what you think! Next chapter coming (very) soon.  
**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Michonne's stomach roiled as she stared into the face of the woman Daryl and Sasha had brought back. She was filthy, covered in dirt and blood and grime, staring up at them from her place on the ground. She hadn't said a word in days, just watched them beneath her odd blunt bangs, a strange little half smirk on her face.

"These people are weird as fuck," Sasha scoffed from next to Michonne, her face twisted into a scowl.

"No kidding," Daryl muttered his agreement. "This one ain't saying much but they talked funny when we found them."

Michonne raised an eyebrow at that. Sasha clarified. "Not the way they do at the Kingdom."

"It's like they grew up under a rock or something," Daryl said.

"Says the boy from backwoods Georgia," Rick smiled lightly at his friend. Daryl grinned back.

"Like Sasha said, these fuckers are weird," he said.

Rick tested the doors, yanking hard. They chains held. "Alexandria will take her," he told them, leaving their prisoner with T-Dog and Andrea guarding the door. "They've got a proper prison. It won't be long in there until she starts talking."

Michonne was not so sure. She felt exhausted, drained in a way that was new to her. The last week had been a blur; her mother had arrived from the Kingdom with Ezekiel, Morgan and Carol in tow. Rick's mother was here from Alexandria, and Hershel had accompanied the Hilltop's leader, Gregory for a meeting. She'd listened to and told her side of the story so many times that she was beginning to get sick of it.

"You ok?" Rick took her hand as they walked away, strolling back to the tower building in the middle of their community.

"Just tired," she smiled weakly at him, wishing she was in bed, Rick beside her. The prospect of entertaining the dignitaries from three communities was an exhausting one. Normally, Maggie handled the pleasantries, but she was stationed by Glenn's bedside, refusing to move. Michonne thought the sentiment was sweet, but it meant more work for her. Daryl and Sasha did not excel in the area of politics, requiring that Rick and Michonne facilitate the inquisitions and planning.

The facts were as such: Sasha and Daryl had taken out over a dozen strangers outside of the gates of the Hilltop, managing to capture one woman in the process. For the rest of the week, the roads had been silent.

"Looks like it's over," Gregory clapped his hands enthusiastically a few minutes later. The leaders of the communities were stationed inside the Haven's soon-to-be classroom, wrapping up loose ends.

"It has been quiet," Hershel agreed cautiously. "That does not mean anything is over."

"Precisely," Michonne's mother, Collette, interjected. "There is no reason to let our guards down now. Or any time, for that matter."

Michonne smiled slightly. Her mother had always preached the importance of vigilance. It was nice to know that some things did not change.

"Alexandria is happy to take the prisoner," Julie, Rick's mother, said. "We will continue questioning her there. Once we have news, we will send word."

"We'll keep the guards up. If anything changes, we'll send up the signal." Rick leaned into Michonne, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Then our business is complete," Ezekiel nodded solemnly. "The Kingdom thanks you for your vigilance," he nodded at Rick and Michonne. "Send our compliments to your Sasha and Daryl."

"We will," Michonne smiled at him. He winked lightly at her. It felt good to have the approval of the man who had become like an uncle to her in this world.

"Then we depart in the morning." The group began to disperse, eager to spend time with friends and loved ones during this rare moment of downtime. Michonne looked forward to going home herself, momentarily forgetting that Julie and Collette would be spending the night at she and Rick's house.

"Are you all right?" her mother asked her. Rick had gone off to check the pantry, leaving Michonne and her mother on a perimeter check.

"Tired," there was no point in lying to her mom. There never had been. She'd get to the bottom of it sooner or later.

"Understandable," Collette nodded, thoughtful. "Though is not the first battle you have fought."

"No," Michonne had considered this as well, searching for a reason for her fatigue. "Maybe I'm getting sick or something." She hoped not. Now was not a good time to have a cold.

"What are your symptoms?" her mom asked, scanning their surroundings.

"Exhaustion," Michonne listed, "a little bit achy."

"Achy where?" Collette stopped in her tracks, looking hard at her daughter.

Michonne crossed her arms over her chest. Collette laughed lightly. "It happens sometimes," Michonne explained.

"Is your cycle coming?" her mom's laugh continued. "You used to struggle with that when you were a teenager."

Michonne did not need to be reminded of the hell that her first few years of having a period had been. "No," she did the math, calculating. Realization dawned. Her eyes widened. Collette lifted her eyebrows knowingly.

"I suggest you talk to Rick. Maybe visit with Hershel while he's here," her mom began her steady steps again. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I thought that's why you paired us up," Michonne teased. "To make babies."

Collette shrugged. "It helps to have a partner in life. Since you and Rick seemed content to simply stare at one another for years on end, we thought we'd speed up the process."

Michonne blushed, her mind racing. "You knew?"

"About what? Mike? Your crush on your husband?" her mom smiled. "Yes. We knew. You have always been a willful woman, Michonne. Rick is a man who is worthy of you."

"Mike's heading back with you, to the Kingdom," Michonne told her mother, embarrassed that she was had been so transparent.

"Good." Collette laughed. "I assume he wouldn't enjoy watching you and Rick have your first baby. That might sting a bit."

Michonne shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Do you really think I'm pregnant?"

"I think it's likely," Collette reached for her daughter, pulling at her hair lightly.

"Do you think we're ready?" Michonne felt the prickles of uncertainty.

"Is anyone?" Collette stopped them both. "We raised you in the apocalypse, Michonne. Jeff and Julie lost a child. Yet here we all are. I think you and Rick will be exemplary at this. You are children of this world, after all." She kissed Michonne lightly on the cheek. "You should go home. Talk to your husband."

Nodding, Michonne swallowed thickly, her affection for her mother surging. "I love you mom."

"I love you too." Collette fixed a stray loc of Michonne's hair. "Do me a favor? Take the test tonight. I want to bring good news back to your father."

-l-l-l-l-

Rick was in the bathroom when Michonne found him, shaving in front of the sink. She paused, leaning in the doorway, enjoying the sight of him doing something so domestic. Rick looked up at her, wiping the shaving cream from his face.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked her, tilting his head in her direction.

"Who said I'm thinking about anything?" it did not fail to amuse her that he could read her so well already.

"Mmm," he made a throaty sound, skeptical.

Michonne reached for her husband, tugging lightly at his curls. They grew like weeds, the tendrils dusting his shoulders already. "You need a trim," she observed.

"Here," he handed her the scissors, sitting down on the edge of the tub, waiting patiently. She took them, carefully combing through his hair, clipping at the ends. They floated down into the tub.

"I don't think this is over," she admitted, busying herself with the task at hand.

"Why do you think that?" he asked calmly.

"Those people, _her_ people, whoever they are," Michonne operated the scissors, putting her thoughts in order. "They aren't the normal kinds of people you meet on the road. They didn't steal anything. Didn't attack any communities."

"They shot Glenn," Rick held still except for his hands, drumming his fingers on his knees.

"And attacked Morgan," Michonne said. "But not Maggie."

"And Sasha said they focused on Daryl." Rick mused.

"And they went for Sophia. Not Carol." It was the fact that sat most uncomfortably with Michonne.

Rick swallowed, tilting his head to accommodate his wife as she continued her task. "You're right. It doesn't add up. People out there, like that, they're either thieves, murders, or rapists."

"Maybe it _is_ about stealing," Michonne paused, her mind racing. "Maybe they're after the same thing we are."

Rick raised a brow in surprise, looking back at her. "What are we after?"

"People," Michonne said. "That's why we got paired together. The world needs more people."

"So they're stealing them?" Rick's face scrunched up.

"Just the ones they need. Women. Children," Michonne gained speed, the pieces coming together. "Maggie said it felt like they were just waiting for Glenn to drop. They attacked Morgan, but left the kids."

"So why leave Carol? She can have kids." Rick's mind worked over time. "Unless they saw her hair and just assumed…"

"They thought she was old. They were watching from far away. She's timid, quiet. Maybe they thought she was older than she is." Michonne's heart began to race.

"Shit," Rick breathed the syllable out. "We have to get rid of all of them."

"Maybe Sasha and Daryl did," Michonne felt tired again. She lowered herself onto the edge of the tub.

"One way to find out. We've got to get that woman to talk." Rick looked resigned. Michonne reached for his hand.

"Can it wait?" she just didn't have the energy right now.

"Are you ok?" Rick asked, brushing his hand down her cheek.

Michonne wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed, Rick beside her. "Let me finish your hair," she stood up, scissors in hand. Rick sat still as she trimmed the rest, only turning when she sat the scissors down.

"Let me do that," Rick steered her to sit on the edge of the tub while he cleaned up, dusting the clippings away and flushing them. He reached for the shower, turning on the flow of water. "Get in," he instructed her, already tugging at his shirt.

"Trying to save water?" she teased, feeling her exhaustion ebb away as more of Rick came into view of her hungry eyes.

"You need to unwind," he told her, fiddling with her vest. "Let me help you."

Michonne did not need to be told twice. She shed her clothing, stepping under the hot spray of water. Rick climbed in behind her, pulling her body against his. He wrapped her in his arms, holding them still as the bathroom steamed up. Michonne breathed in deeply, relaxing into him.

"I talked to my mom," she told him, relishing in the feel of him soaping the two of them up.

"What'd she say?" he asked, dragging his knuckles down her spine. She shivered.

"She thinks I'm pregnant."

Rick froze, the water splashing beneath them, bouncing off the tiles.

"Rick?" she asked, turning around to face him.

"My mom said something too," he admitted, his dark blue eyes fixed on her face. "What do you think?"

"It's possible," she took a deep breath. "We both know it's possible."

Rick nodded, deep in thought. "Ok," he said. Quickly, he stepped back into the spray, rinsing off. He kissed her, pressing his damp mouth to hers. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" she asked, watching him all but jump out of the tub and dry off.

"I'll be right back," he repeated. He threw his clothes on and charged out of the bathroom. She could hear his feet on the steps and then the slam of the front door.

Confused, Michonne finished her shower alone, toweling off. She was lying on the bed, still wrapped in a towel when Rick returned. She could hear him talking to their mothers downstairs, his deep voice rumbling out among their lighter tones. She knew she ought to go downstairs and join them, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Rick burst into the bedroom, excited.

"I found one in the pantry," Rick brandished the slender box, pulling the cardboard apart before he even was next to her. "I asked Hershel. He said it should be accurate."

"Rick," Michonne sat up, "We shouldn't be worrying about this now."

"Michonne," Rick tilted his head, skeptical, "you're telling me you don't want to know?"

She swallowed. "I do."

"So go pee on this," he instructed. "And let's find out."

Michonne turned the test over in her hands, glancing at the instructions. "We really should take care of the prisoner…"

"I'll handle it," Rick's tone was authoritative. "Go." He left no room for argument. Michonne felt an odd pang of attraction. She went quickly to the bathroom and returned, setting the test in front of them on the bed.

"What if it's positive?" she asked.

Rick grinned at her. "Then we have a baby."

"And if it's negative?" that possibility seemed worse. Her hopes were up now.

"Then we keep trying," Rick reached for her, tucking her beside him. His kiss soothed her nerves. Despite her exhaustion, her body was now screaming for her husband's affections. He pulled back and she suffered a brief moment of disappointment.

"What does it say?" he was squinting at it, his expression unreadable. Wordlessly, he handed it to her.

"Pregnant," the words rang in her ears as she read the small gray letters aloud. A smile split her face as Rick began to laugh in earnest, pulling her towards him. He kissed her all over her face, setting her giggling.

"We should go tell them," she referenced their mothers in the guestroom downstairs.

"It can wait until the morning," Rick assured her, the timbre of his voice dropping as he rid of her towel. Michonne heartily agreed, falling backwards and taking her husband with her.


	13. Celebrations

**A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews! To the reader who expressed concern that Michonne would be killed in the show, I hope what's happening in the comics is the writers backpedaling and making Richonne canon in the graphic novels (which should have probably happened a long time ago). I don't think we need to worry about our warrior woman, at least not right now.**

 **Please enjoy, and please review!**

* * *

"Why is your mom looking at you like that?" Glenn raised both his brows in confusion.

"Like what?" Rick attempted to stay focused on the task at hand. The prisoner was being moved into the back of a reinforced van, her hands and feet bound tightly.

"Like she's going to cry," Glenn whispered.

Rick chanced a glance over at his mom, cursing inside when he saw that Glenn was absolutely right. Julie's eyes were obviously bright, watering as she stared lovingly in his direction.

"You know my mom," Rick attempted to downplay it. "Probably just proud of me."

"She's proud of everything you've ever done," Glenn agreed, "But I've never seen her cry."

"I'll tell you later," Rick promised. He couldn't afford to get distracted now.

"What?" Glenn scrunched his face. "Is it bad news?"

"No," Rick shook his head, watching his mother fawn over his wife. Michonne looked uncomfortable with the attention.

"I'm fine, Julie," she assured his mother confidently.

"What's wrong with her?" Ezekiel's sharp ears picked up the words and he turned immediately, concern etched all of her face.

"Guys," Michonne pointedly jerked her head at the strange prisoner. "Let's stay focused." She drew her sword, hurrying away from the other leaders.

"Is something wrong?" the question came from Mike. His bag was swung over his shoulder. Rick was eagerly anticipating his departure.

"I'm fine," Michonne asserted, helping Daryl push the prisoner into the van. She went willingly, her eyes still on them as they shut the door on her. She was just visible through the small, blacked out windows.

"Ok, seriously, what is going on?" Glenn asked, leaning on his crutches. "Hershel and Maggie disappeared last night too. Is Michonne sick?"

Half a dozen pairs of eyes whipped around to look at Rick, then Michonne in turn. Julie bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Oh, tell them, Rick," she begged.

"I'm pregnant," Michonne burst out. "Not sick. Not dying. Just pregnant." She testily gripped her katana handle. "Can we please just finish up here?"

Her plea went unanswered as people surged forward at once, pressing the couple into hug after hug. Both Rick and Michonne kept their eyes on the van, overwhelmed. Only Mike remained, guarding the prisoner.

"Congratulations," the hearty cry went up from Ezekiel, leading to a chorus of echoes.

"Thank you," Rick was sure that his skin was flushed bright red. Michonne even looked as though she was blushing.

"We need to escort the prisoner to Alexandria," Collette reminded the group, none too gently. "But we will celebrate properly later."

"Assuredly," Ezekiel grinned, clasping Rick on the back. Rick smiled at him, then promptly threw Glenn a look that could kill.

"Sorry I asked," he whispered, not looking sorry at all. In fact, he was smiling beneath his ballcap.

Rick rolled his eyes, but felt his anger abate. He was happy after all. The prisoner was leaving, Mike was leaving, and Michonne was pregnant. He reached for her hand, pulling her snuggly beneath his arm. She gratefully accepted.

"We'll see you soon," she waved them off, accepting a final hug from both of their mothers before watching people pile into cars and slowly exit through the Haven's gates. From the very last car, Mike stuck his head out of the window.

"Congratulations," he shouted back at them, managing to sound sincere. Rick watched, floored, as they all left.

"So…" Daryl stopped beside them, smirking. "Knocked up already?"

Michonne sighed. Rick shrugged. "Can't keep her hands off me," he teased. Michonne hit him. Hard.

"We have work to do," she reminded him. "Maybe you and Daryl can hose out the room she was in. It needs cleaning up."

Rick laughed but Daryl's amusement died. "What about Glenn?" he asked.

"He took a bullet for the cause," Michonne said sympathetically. Glenn grinned, but Michonne was not through yet. "Besides, Maggie probably needs him to practice kissing or something."

All three men burst out laughing as Michonne moved away, hurrying towards Sasha and Maggie. She had told them both the night before, after Hershel had come over to give her a quick physical. She was in great shape, as Rick knew well. The doctor had left them with vitamins and instructions to go easy for the next few months. Rick wondered how that would sit with his wife.

"I'll catch up to you guys," Rick put responsibility on the back burner for just a moment, making his way to where Michonne had disappeared.

"She's already pregnant, dude," Glenn reminded. "You guys can cool it."

Rick shook his head at his friends, allowing them a laugh at his expense. He was feeling happier than he had in weeks, the way he felt their first night together. She was in the classroom, unpacking books when he found her. Rick locked the door behind him, satisfied that they were alone.

"Where's Sasha and Maggie?" he asked, bending down to help her.

"I sent them to work on the crops. We need to make sure they're cold resistant. Andrea is up on the wall with Dale, and Tyrese and T-Dog are leading a group to cut back the trees along the wall. It will take a few days, but we'll have wood for the winter," she handed him a stack of books and he stood to shelve them.

"I'll go help them in a bit," Rick told her.

"I'll come," she said.

"Michonne…" Rick braced himself to protest.

"I'll just help move the smaller pieces," she promised. "I didn't forget what Hershel told us."

Rick sighed, relieved. "We're going to start our shooting lessons again," he said. "You'll need to learn. Just in case."

"Fine," she stood, the box now empty. Rick turned to face her. "Everyone took the news well," she observed.

"Even Mike," Rick needed to touch her. He reached out, running his hands around her waist.

"I'm glad they're gone," she smiled, drawing closer to him.

"They'll be back," Rick grinned back. "Apparently, we're having a party."

"We're having a baby," her hands came over his shoulders.

Rick kissed her, unable to resist any longer. She responded ravenously, tugging at the buttons on his shirt until she could work it over his arms. He lifted her up, fumbling with the button of her jeans, trying to shove them off one-handed. Michonne reached down to help him, squirming out of the tight denim until it was at her ankles. Rick tugged, ridding her of them, his other hand clutching firmly around his favorite part of her anatomy. She groaned into his mouth, pressing her bottom into his groping hands, her fingers working nimbly to rid him of his jeans. They fell down his narrow waist the moment that she got the belt undone, and she reached into his boxers.

He laid her down on a nearby table, climbing over her as she let her knees fall apart, easily accommodating him. She moved to pull him atop of her, but Rick had other ideas. He grasped her legs instead, dipping his head and letting his tongue flick out.

"Oh!" Michonne let out a loud moan. Rick shushed her. The whole Haven didn't need to know that their leaders were getting frisky in the library. She bit down hard on her lower lip instead, her hands catching in his hair. Rick continued until she was squirming beneath him, practically shaking. "Rick," her breath caught on his name, turning into a low groan.

Rick sat up, moving swiftly forward, lifting her by the waist. They both grunted at the contact. Michonne bent her knees, hooking one over his shoulder. Rick felt his control snap like a rubber band. He pulled her up, testing the table beneath them. Michonne convulsed, her fingernails digging into his back, practically screaming into his mouth.

"Oh shit, Michonne," he bit down light lightly on her shoulder and she fell apart, pulling him along with her.

She trailed kisses up his damp skin as he rolled beside her, pressed closely together atop the table. "Remember when you turned me down in here?" she asked, jokingly.

Rick laughed, exhausted but unequivocally happy. "Not one of my better ideas," he admitted, leaning over to capture her lips again. She hummed against him.

"I think you just made up for it," she squeezed his hand tightly.

"Wait until we get home later," he promised her, smirking at the satisfied look on her face. "We'll have a party of our own."

She giggled, tilting her head back. "We should probably go help them out there,"

"Maybe we wipe down the table first," he kissed her again as she laughed.

8 months later…

Rick left the house early in the morning, breathing in the chilly air. Mornings were still cold in the Haven, even as the afternoons quickly warmed up. Summer was late in arriving this year. The Haven was quiet, most of its residents still asleep, bundled up in bed. From his place on the street, Rick could see the guards on the wall pacing. He nodded, hurrying up the road to the pantry.

"Michonne got a craving?" Daryl's voice broke the quiet of the morning. Rick turned to grin at his friend and neighbor.

"They're getting pretty crazy now," Rick admitted.

"I'm glad Sasha doesn't want a baby," Daryl grumbled. The woman in question joined him, dressed all in sweats.

"Where are you two headed?" Rick asked, looking on in amusement.

"Running," Sasha announced pleasantly, handing Daryl a pair of shoes.

"Running huh?" Rick had never known Daryl to engage in cardio in his life. He smirked amusedly at his friend.

Daryl blushed. "Don't you have something to get for your pregnant wife?" he asked.

"Enjoy the run," Rick fired back.

He continued up the street, mentally repeating his grocery list to himself. He spotted Glenn and Maggie up ahead, stretching. It was nice to see Glenn up and running again. The first few weeks after being shot he'd lamented being bedridden, resenting the months of physical therapy that took place before he could go on runs again. He was back in shape now, stationed with his girlfriend, waiting.

"Morning," Maggie smiled pleasantly at him. Rick paused to hug them both.

"Did you know Sasha got Daryl to run with us in the mornings?" Glenn asked, grinning widely.

"Saw him pouting up the road," Rick swung a finger backwards, gesturing to where the new couple was making their way up the street. "Do you mind running past the fields? We have to check if the new sprouts are taking. Might need to change our plans if it doesn't warm up soon."

"Got it," Glenn nodded.

"Thanks," Rick patted his shoulder gratefully. "Tyrese is running a self-defense class for the new recruits today. Maggie, will you and Sasha help him out?"

"Sure thing," his wife's friend smiled at him again. "Is Michonne craving pancakes?"

"Chocolate-chip," Rick confirmed.

"Add some cinnamon to the batter. My momma used to do it. She'll love it," Maggie suggested.

"Thanks for the tip," Rick left his friends to their morning routine. He and Michonne used to run the perimeter every morning, but had fallen out of the habit in recent weeks as the baby grew larger inside of her. He knew that she missed the physical activity, though she never complained, even as her feet swelled and her body changed to accommodate the life inside of her.

Still, there were other ways to workout, a fact that they had both exploited in their newfound free time. He gathered the chocolate chips for her pancakes quickly, rushing back home, wanting to be there before she woke up. Mornings were their quiet time together, his favorite part of the day.

She was still asleep, curled up on her side, one leg free from the tangle of blankets, clutching a pillow. Rick shed his jacket and boots, climbing in beside her. His hands went instinctively to her baby bump, cradling the smooth contours of her rounded belly.

"Good morning, baby," he greeted as she rolled backwards, pressing herself into his chest.

"Are you talking to me?" she joked, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Both of you," he kissed at her neck, nipping lightly at her shoulder. She'd taken to sleeping in his shirts since her pregnancy began to show. The sight of her in them always set Rick's blood pumping. He dragged one hand down to her legs, rubbing at them through the cotton of her pants.

She sighed, reaching back for him, threading her hands through the curls at the nape of his neck. He pressed his face into hers, exploiting his week old scruff, dragging it along her skin. "Are you hungry?" he asked. The kitchen counter downstairs was already covered in bowls and ingredients, waiting to be assembled.

"A little bit," her hands found his, guiding his palms over her body. "I want something else first."

Rick was too happy to oblige, assisting her in pushing her pants down and off her legs, then tugging her shirt off. He made quick work of his own clothing, his body pulsing, demanding hers. It didn't take much, it never had, but now the sight of her was enough. His wife, his partner in this world, was just a few weeks away from making them a family. He found every way he could to thank her. This was his favorite way to do so.

"You're so beautiful," he rumbled into her ear. It was true, whether she was slicing and dicing outside of the wall, or helping him put together a crib they'd found on a run, he found her irresistible. She turned her head, kissing him urgently, her hands clasping at him. Rick had thought she had a healthy appreciation for him before they got pregnant. The last few months had proved that was a naïve estimate.

"Rick," she sighed as he rolled his hips against hers, clutching at his arms. He went slow, careful not to hurt her. "I love you," she reminded him, her breathing becoming uneven.

"I love you too," he kissed her neck, pulling her closer to him.

-l-l-l-l-

An hour later found them downstairs, Michonne still wearing his clothing, sitting at the counter while he made breakfast.

"What do you think for a girl?" she asked, snitching a chocolate chip.

"What about Nina?" he asked, half-serious. The pancake batter sizzled as he dropped it onto the skillet. Michonne licked her lips.

"Jennifer? Penny? Jessie?" she listed names.

"Ugh, not Jessie," Rick scrunched his nose in disgust.

"What about for a boy?" Michonne giggled, happily accepting a steaming hot pancake right from the skillet. "Maybe we name him for you?"

Rick shrugged. "One Rick might be enough," he smiled as she laughed, happily forking breakfast into her open mouth.

"Ok, so something different." She thought about it, watching him as he continued his work. "Is there a name you like?"

Rick paused, considering, "I've always liked the name Carl."

"Carl," Michonne rolled the syllable over on her tongue. "It's a good name for the son of a cowboy," she teased.

"Exactly," he flipped another pancake onto her plate. She promptly split it and gave him half.

"Carl," she said again, slowly. "I think I might like it."

"Yeah?" Rick grinned. "We better have a boy then, since we can't agree on a girl name."

"I'm working on it," Michonne rubbed her stomach lovingly. "Have you heard from your parents?"

"Yeah," Rick sat down to eat beside her. "She still won't talk. All they've gotten is a name. Seems like she's angry we killed her people."

"And imprisoned her for 8 months," Michonne added.

"That too," Rick shrugged. "But there's no sign there's any more out there, or even a settlement left over. None that we can find at least."

"What was her name?" Michonne asked, sipping her milk.

"Jadis," Rick reported.

"Maybe we name our baby that," Michonne suggested. Rick looked back at her, affronted. She promptly burst into giggles.

"Kidding," she assured him.

"Good," he patted her stomach, relieved.

Michonne kissed his cheek, returning to her breakfast. "What's the plan today?" she asked.

Rick swallowed a bite. "I'm taking the day off. I'm all yours," he smirked at her smile.

"Good," Michonne kissed him again.

-l-l-l-l-

They were on the porch that evening when the fireworks went off. It was just a faint pop in the background at first, something Michonne could have easily ignored. When they went off a few more times, Rick stood up to investigate.

"Shit," he came to attention at once, rushing down the porch stairs.

"What color are they?" Michonne could not move as quickly anymore, the baby making speed difficult.

"Red," Rick was instantly restless.

"Alexandria," Michonne breathed, her heart racing. "You have to go."

"I'm not leaving you," Rick told her, his fingers dancing across the hilt of his Colt Python.

"It's your family, Rick," Michonne was insistent. She pushed him forward. Glenn and Daryl were already running up the street, weapons at the ready.

"You're my family," Rick told her. The distress was clear on his face.

"I am," she confirmed, kissing him. "But you have to go. I'll be here when you get back." She smiled encouragingly. "I can still swing a sword, Rick." She wasn't as quick now, but she was just as deadly, especially with the addition of 8 months of diligent shooting lessons from her husband.

He stood, glancing between her and the fireworks.

"Go," she encouraged. Alexandria was over an hour away on the bumpy back roads. Time was of the essence.

"I'll be back," he promised her, dropping a kiss on her lips before charging down the street. "I love you," he called back at her.

"Love you too," Michonne watched the red explosions trail off, the baby inside of her kicking frantically. "Daddy will be back," she told her stomach, rubbing the tension away. "Don't worry."


	14. Captured

**A/N: We're nearing the end! Thank you for all of the reviews and kind words. I'm glad you all seem to be liking it as much as I love writing it.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Carol held Sophia's hand tightly as they strolled in a group around the perimeter. There had been a time, months ago, when this morning ritual had been combat training. Carol and Sophia had been quick studies, taking to the knife work like a duck to water. Morgan had even gifted Carol with a handmade weapon for the occasion. The handle of her blade was fastened from brass knuckles he had given her years ago.

"Big," Michonne had to laugh. Though her arms and legs remained in shape from her diligent work effort, her stomach had grown seemingly overnight. Combat training had become jogging around the Haven and finally, a morning stroll. Carol did not seem to mind.

"I remember that," the older woman smiled wistfully. "Ed, Sophia's daddy," she paused glancing nervously at her daughter. She released the little girl's hand and Sophia happily ran ahead. "He was different when I was pregnant. Almost kind. Stopped hitting me altogether towards the end."

It was one of those uncomfortable details that Carol shared from time to time. Michonne nodded, wondering what the world used to be that a man could beat his wife without anyone intervening. She couldn't imagine a circumstance in which she and Rick would raise a hand to one another.

"How is Morgan with Sophia?" Michonne asked, venturing for more details on their enigmatic relationship. She had observed them closely over the last few months. They were obviously a family unit, living together and raising their children. And while Duane and Sophia operated very much like siblings, Morgan and Carol were much more quiet about the nature of their relationship.

"Patient," Carol's lips quirked, even as she crossed her arms over her chest. "He's patient with both of us."

Michonne smiled. Patient was the one thing she knew without a doubt that Morgan was. He was a calming presence for her husband, who tended to run more towards hot-headed. It was nice that there were people in the Haven that she and Rick could rely on.

"Are you two together?" Michonne asked.

Carol shrugged. "When we met, I still had Ed and Morgan had just had to put down his wife. Eventually, he took care of Ed for me too. We survive together. Maybe one day it will be more than that. But it's enough."

Michonne nodded, considering Carol's words. The woman shocked her when she continued.

"You know, I used to feel so bad for you kids who came up in this world. But I think you're the lucky ones. You don't miss the way things used to be. Your lives just go on."

It was not the first time that Michonne had heard that sentiment. Sasha and Daryl, Maggie and Glenn, Tyrese had met a woman named Karen, and Andrea was getting close to one of the new recruits…people were pairing off like wildfire within these walls.

"Maybe we are lucky," Michonne rubbed her stomach, feeling the baby roll over inside of her.

"Should be soon now," Carol looked down at Michonne's bump.

"A few weeks," it was Hershel's best guesstimate. She and Rick already had the crib set up and pushed into one corner of their bedroom. Michonne glanced upward, trying to gauge the time of day using the position of the sun. Rick should be home in a few hours, if all went well. She wondered if Sasha might go out to check for her.

"He'll be home soon," Carol seemingly read her mind, smiling sweetly. "I'm sure he's rushing back to you as we speak."

"You're probably right," Michonne laughed lightly, taking a deep breath and continuing on with her walk.

-l-l-l-l-

"We'll keep looking for her, I promise you, son," Jeff followed hot on Rick's heels.

"She can't have gone far, not on foot, not after months of sitting in that cell," Daryl said.

Rick nodded, scowling out into the woods surrounding Alexandria, the woods that weren't so far from home. "Go with the search party," he turned to his friends. Daryl and Glenn nodded dutifully at him.

"What do we do once we find her?" Glenn asked, adjusting his cap over his eyes. Summer had decided to show out in full-force this afternoon, beating down on the still defrosting ground.

"That's up to Alexandria," Rick managed to keep a level head, despite his anger. He could put a bullet in that woman just for taking him away from Michonne.

"Who set off the fireworks?" Daryl asked, squinting at Jeff.

"The guard panicked, thought they would help us see her running off," Jeff looked annoyed by the very thought.

"I've got to get back," Rick was anxious now, pacing like a caged animal. He'd been away from Michonne long enough.

"Go ahead," Glenn said. "Daryl and I will help out here."

"Take one of our cars," Jeff told his son. "I'll send them back when we're done here."

"Ok," there was a burning sensation in the pit of Rick's stomach, a sense of worry that he couldn't shake. "I'm going to go," he announced, reaching for the car keys.

"I'm sure she's fine," Glenn read his mood and sought to reassure him.

"I'm going to go," Rick nodded, half-focused on the situation at hand. Everything in him was telling him to get back in his car and drive.

He floored the gas pedal and pointed the vehicle back home. The roads were blessedly clear as he navigated, attempting to calm himself down. It hadn't even been a day since he left home. Michonne was fine. They were at least a week or two out from labor. He'd get home, they'd kiss, and he could spend the next few days worrying about their future daughter or son.

He relaxed into the driver's seat, the image of Michonne and him in bed together with their child finally managing to soothe his nerves. Rick exhaled shakily, refocusing on the road. Alexandria had disappeared in his rearview mirror. Daryl and Glenn would handle finding Jadis. Everything was going to be fine.

He slowed his car as barrier became apparent in the road. Something had leveled a tree and it was now lying, branches, trunk, roots and all, in the middle of the street. Rick instantly stiffened, reaching for his Colt as the car idled to a stop. He could reverse now, head back to Alexandria, get a crew and clear the road. He slammed his hand on the wheel in frustration.

This could not be coincidence. He removed his gun from its holster, holding it in his right hand as he used his left to steer backwards, his head swiveling around. Someone was out there, and he was willing to bet he knew who it was.

He spotted her on the edge of the forest, standing beside the road and smirking at him. Rick had half a mind to shoot her on the spot, but she disappeared, retreating into the trees. Cursing, Rick rolled down the window, leveling his gun.

"Wouldn't do that if you," she called out to him. Rick instantly knew what Sasha had meant all those months ago when she had described Jadis as "weird". From her odd black tunic, to her wild hair, dark at the roots but still dyed blonde at the edges, she looked out of place, even in the apocalypse.

Rick squeezed off a round anyway, determined not to play her games. Jadis stepped aside, hiding behind a tree as the shell struck just inches from her. Her smile widened.

"Very pretty, your wife," she spoke again. "Soon a pretty baby, no?"

Rick felt panic seize him.

"Where is she?" he leveled the gun again, anger coursing through him.

-l-l-l-l-

Michonne scowled into the darkness ahead of her. Something was wrong. Rick should have been back hours ago. He would have at least sent Daryl or Glenn with a message if he had decided to stay. Something in her gut burned, hot and panicked. Even the baby could feel it. She could feel the movement inside of her, restless, pressing her from the inside out.

"Where's your dad?" she asked her bump, wishing that the universe would answer. Instead, the world stay silent, the inky black of the night sky lightening in the distance as dawn crept in. In an hour, there would be full sunlight. In an hour, she could go look for her husband.

She did not think she could make it an hour. And if Rick was in trouble, neither of them could afford to wait.

"Ok," Michonne breathed, hiking her katana up onto her shoulder. It fit a little snug around the chest now, but she could still reach the sword when she needed it. "Let's go get daddy," she whispered to her bump, starting down the stairs.

She had almost made it to the gates when Carol caught up to her. The sight startled Michonne for a moment; she'd forgotten that the woman now took guard shifts.

"Where are you going?" Carol confronted her. She was clutching her knife in one hand, as though she expected someone to run up the stairs and attack her at any moment.

"To get my husband," the answer was simple. Michonne unbolted the fence, rolling it backwards just enough for her to squeeze out. She did not have time to delay.

"Not by yourself," Carol insisted. She reached for a gun, slinging it around her shoulder.

Michonne opened her mouth to protest when she saw Carol hurrying towards a row of cars. She opened the door of a white van, locating the spare key beneath the dashboard. With a growl, the engine turned over.

"Need a ride?" she asked pleasantly.

Surprised, Michonne paused for a moment. "I'd love one," she climbed into the van.

"Michonne!" Sasha called out to her, running in their direction. Her gun was over her shoulder, ready to take over the watch. "Where are you going?"

"To get Rick," Michonne kept her answer vague, leaning out of the window. "Hold down the fort until I get back. Business as usual," she instructed.

Sasha's eyes flicked to Carol in the driver's seat. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you?"

The Haven couldn't lose all of its best fighters. Michonne shook her head. "I'll be back," she assured her.

Carol drove them carefully down the road, the van rumbling along as the sun began to rise in the distance. It was a beautiful sight, the world quiet and clean, like it had no idea the kind of things that were going on in it. Michonne took deep breaths, in and out, mentally planning what was going to happen.

"Alexandria?" Carol asked, glancing at her.

"Yes," Michonne nodded. It was a good place to start.

They rolled down the street quietly, Michonne scanning, hoping that she was overreacting.

"I'm sure Rick is fine," Carol spoke up. "Probably just got caught up chasing down the prisoner."

Michonne sat up higher in her seat, her eyes drawn to movement on the edge of the forest. "Don't slow down," she warned her driver, reaching for her katana.

"What is it?" Carol's voice took on a sharp tone.

"Carol," Michonne only had seconds and she needed this woman calm. "When they come, you run."

"What?" Carol became for frantic.

"Run back to Alexandria. Get Sasha. Tell her what happened." Michonne removed her seat belt.

"Michonne, I can't—"

"You can," Michonne insisted. "You have to." She swallowed, watching the shadows get closer. "Now!" she shouted.

Carol fumbled for a moment, then leapt from the car, rushing off into the darkness, gun in tow. Michonne climbed out of the other side, sword drawn, determined to not be taken easily. They swarmed all at once, emerging from the forest and surrounding her van. Michonne arced her sword gracefully, dropping two to the ground. The rest of the group stopped, staying a safe distance back.

"Brave that one," the leader stepped forward, nodding in the direction that Carol had just run off. Michonne would have recognized that smirk anywhere.

"Jadis," she greeted, flicking the blood off of her sword.

"With us you come," Jadis' smile widened. "Or your husband you lose." She cocked an eyebrow. Reluctantly, Michonne lowered her sword. They group was on her in an instant, disarming her and forcing her into the van. Jadis climbed into the passenger seat, aiming her gun at Michonne's head. "Drive."

Michonne stayed still, her mind still turning.

Jadis smirked again, lowering the gun to her stomach. "Drive," she repeated.

Begrudgingly, Michonne started the car, the child in her belly kicking frantically.

-l-l-l-l-

"Let me see her," Rick demanded. He was standing in a landfill, the trash maneuvered and arranged to form rooms and tunnels. The smell was overwhelming, detectable for miles. He didn't know what kind of people would choose to live here, but he knew he didn't like them at all.

"In no position to make demands," Jadis circled him, looking him up and down. "She is safe," she assured him.

"Let. Me. See. Her." Rick was prepared to strangle this woman. She had taken his gun, and now his wife.

"If I do," Jadis began, smiling lightly. "I lay with you after. Deal?"

Disgust seized Rick, mixing in with the rage. "Fuck you," he seethed. He lunged forward, hands coming to Jadis' throat. Her guards stepped forward at once, yanking him back. Rick continued to fight, managing to level one with a fist to the jaw. Someone knocked him in the back of the leg, sending him down to one knee. The barrel of a gun came to his head. Rick recognized his Python at once.

"I'm going to kill you," he ground out, his eyes never leaving the woman in front of him.

She laughed. "If you survive, we talk."

With a whistle, more men moved forward. Someone seized Rick beneath the arms, dragging him up a mountain of trash. Rick fought, kicking out, but it was no use. With an unceremonious shove, he went sprawling over the edge, landing in an undignified heap at the bottom. The smell around him became markedly more horrible, the sticky sweet scent of something rotting. Rick leapt to his feet, glancing up. Several black-clad spectators stood in a circle at the top, staring down at him.

"What is this?" he shouted up, angry and confused.

"Survive," Jadis repeated, jerking her chin up.

Rick turned. Across the narrow circle was a walker, impaled by broken metal and spikes, looking like some medieval monster. Rick's mind went immediately to Michonne.

Stooping, he bent down, picking up the twisted end of what may have been a golf club. He raised it like a weapon.

"All right," he growled. "Let's get this over with."


	15. Heap of Trouble

**A/N: Thank you for all of the feedback on the last chapter! Just a reminder, Rick and Michonne are young and newly in love here. Love makes you do some crazy things, like rushing off to save your spouse without thinking about it. :)**

 **Thank you, as always, for all of your kind reviews and support. We're fast approaching the end.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"Move," a large man prodded Michonne between the shoulder blades, forcing her into a narrow pathway between a mountain of trash.

She remained silent, taking measured slow steps, mapping their route out in her mind. She had no designs to stay here longer than it took to retrieve her husband. The smell in here was nearly unbearable, the stench creeping into her sinuses and lingering. Michonne focused on the path, memorizing passages, tunnels, ways out, potential weapons. Each one of the stacks of trash was structurally unsound. It wouldn't take much to knock one over, but the action could cause a catastrophic chain. She needed Rick first, needed a surefire way out. Then she would level this place to the ground.

"Get in," the man stopped her in front of a makeshift door, built into a wall of scrap metal. Michonne sized the prison up, looking for potential weaknesses. The hilt of her katana pressed into her back again, jolting her forward. She lost her footing for a second, her stomach turning as she flung her arms out, attempting to balance herself. Her hands came to her belly, cradling it from the sharp edges around her. As she steadied herself, she heard a shout. The sound made her blood run cold.

"Where is he?" she asked her captor, her pulse pounding loudly in her ears.

"Being tested," he grunted, his eyes drawn away from her to the source of the sound.

Michonne filled her lungs with the rancid air, knowing she had one shot at this. "Rick!" she yelled her husband's name as loudly as she possibly good. Instantly, her guard flinched, pushing her backwards and into her cell. Michonne lost balance again, reaching for him to steady herself. Her fingers clung at his clothing, yanking him towards her. He pulled back, dusting himself off as though she had sullied him.

With a clang, the door locked behind her, leaving her in darkness. Michonne listened carefully, partially for Rick, partially for other enemies. After a few moments of silence, she opened her clenched fist, revealing the small knife she had stolen from the guard.

"Ok, baby," she whispered, patting her stomach. "Let's go get daddy."

-l-l-l-l-

The walker moved erratically, lunging for Rick. He danced around in a circle, staying out of reach of the spike-covered foe. He needed something to fight him off with. He scanned his surroundings quickly, but nothing was within reach. Rick wondered if he might be able to pull one of the spikes out of the walker when it reared forward. On instinct, Rick slammed his hand down, pushing the head and biting mouth backwards. The spike went straight through his palm and out of the top of his hand, burning as it pierced through. Rick let out a shout of surprise and pain, lifting a foot to kick the walker back.

He had just managed to free himself when he heard it. Someone was screaming his name.

"Michonne!" he called back, his adrenaline suddenly surging. He rushed to the side where her voice had come from, the walker hot on his trail. It's grunts and groans brought Rick back to the situation at hand. He spun around, kicking it backwards again, before attempting to scale the wall of trash around him. His palm was bleeding freely now, the hot liquid pumping down his arm, make his grip slick. His hand slipped on a large chunk of trash, starting a miniature trash flow. The walker fell back as items toppled on top of it. Rick yanked at the garbage, setting off another avalanche. In seconds, he had buried it.

"Michonne!" he yelled again, ignoring the throbbing ache in his hand. His calls went unanswered. Someone from the top of the pile lowered a rope. Reluctantly, he seized it, intending to make a break for it as soon as he got to the top.

"Well done," Jadis smiled lecherously, clearly impressed. Rick ignored her compliment, flinching as someone grabbed his arm roughly, wrapping his hand in a bandage. They pushed him, guiding him to follow Jadis as she walked back down the trash pile.

"Where is my wife?" Rick ground out through the pain.

"We make deal," Jadis continued on as though she did not hear him. "Your wife, good fighter. We keep her here. The baby too."

"Like hell," Rick dug his feet in, refusing to move. Jadis laugh lightly.

"We keep you here too. You gave wife a baby. You give me a baby. No one gets hurt."

Rick's head throbbed, partially in pain, partially in frustration, completely enraged. "No." He stepped closer to the woman, until they were just inches apart. Rick ground his teeth. "I take my wife. I take our baby. We leave. I don't kill you," at least not right away. Once he knew that Michonne was safe, he would level this place and everyone in it.

"You stay. Baby stays. Wife goes," Jadis said, smirking.

"This is not a negotiation," Rick dug his feet into the ground beneath him, feeling the objects shift slightly. "Last chance."

"No deal," she said, beginning to turn away.

Rick seized the moment, pushing his feet in, upsetting the delicate structure beneath them. It gave way slowly at first, then all at once, the wave of garbage taking Jadis and several of her crew with her. The man holding his python made a move to grab him, but Rick feigned right, pushing him down and seizing his gun in one motion. With a few pulls of a trigger, the remaining enemies were dispatched, the rest buried beneath their own garbage. Rick broke away, moving quickly, heading for where he had heard his wife yelling for him.

"Michonne!" he called again, frantic.

There was no response.

-l-l-l-l-

The pain started slow, a low ache, so distant that Michonne could scarcely feel it at first. As she hunched to pick the lock, it began to grow, exacerbated by the growing stress she was under. The pain was unfamiliar, but she pushed it down, focused on her goal. Get Rick. Get out of here. Everything else right now was secondary.

She wondered how they managed to catch him, whether Glenn and Daryl were with him. From what she could tell, this was a community of nearly only men. They must have been here for years, stealing, shifting the trash, waiting. If there were children, there was no sign of them.

Her body tensed up again, a shock of pain rushing through her. She stilled for just a moment, pausing in her task, trying to breathe through it. When it passed, she redoubled her efforts, managing at last to get the door open.

She stepped out cautiously, looking down the corridor to where her guard had come to rest. She could take him if she did it quietly. Palming her stolen knife, she started her assault.

Michonne was interrupted by the sound of three gunshots cracking through the air and a chorus of shouts. The guard turned, alarmed, his eyes finding her immediately. Michonne wasted no time. Imagining he was just another walker, she drove the blade into his ear, watching the heavy man fall to the ground with a groan. She jerked her sword out from beneath him, determined to follow the sounds of the gunshots.

"Michonne!" the deep southern accent called for her and she responded immediately, rushing towards it. She navigated through the trash hallways, careful not to lose her bearings.

"Rick!" she whispered loudly, hoping he could hear her.

"Michonne!" her name again, this time from above. She turned her face up in time to watch her husband come rushing down at her, riding a wave of garbage to her level. She stepped backwards, shielding her body from the hail of wreckage.

"Rick," she breathed a sigh of relief, tears coming unbidden to her eyes at the sight of him in front of her. He was bleeding, heavily, his hand covered in a stained rag. "What happened?" She fell into his arm, clinging to his neck, relieved to see him alive.

"I found Jadis when I was leaving Alexandria. She told me she had you." He kissed her, his breathing uneven as he took stock of her, his uninjured hand rubbing at the bump between them.

"When was this?" she pulled at his hand, guiding him towards the exit, pushing through the ache in her lower half.

"Yesterday." He followed her, gun at the ready. "Did she attack the Haven? Is everyone ok?"

"I went looking for you this morning," Michonne stole a glance at him, still navigating. "The Haven was safe when I left it. Carol went back to get help."

"She got you this morning?" Rick asked, sliding to a halt.

"Yes," Michonne tugged at him, keeping them moving.

"She lied." Rick sounded furious.

"She used us against each other," Michonne nodded. There would be time to be angry about it later.

"She knew I'd come for you," Rick shook his head. "I didn't even ask, just rushed in—"

"Me too," Michonne needed him to stay focused. Revenge could wait.

"I'm going to kill her," Rick looked around as though he expected Jadis to be around the next corner.

"Rick, we need to go," she pulled at him, reaching for his bloodied hand in her worry.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his attentions returning to her.

"I'm pretty sure I'm in labor," she told him, succumbing to another round of pain.

-l-l-l-l-

Carol crept carefully through the forest, watching intently for any sign of enemies nearby. Michonne had told her to run, and she had, but not towards the Haven. Michonne and Rick had saved her life, had taken her family in on the brink of death. She would not leave them to their fate. There had been no time to think about it. She followed the tracks of the van as the sun rose, determined to end this.

The dump sprawled before her, unassuming. It was a good place for people like these, people who stole others' children in the night. Carol gripped her knife, suddenly angry. She was done with the world taking things from her. It was time to fight.

She skirted the perimeter, scanning for something she could use to help her. There had to be something in these piles of trash, anything that could be used. With careful eyes, she picked over the garbage. There was nothing but junk, paper, and scraps, the remnants of a wasteful society.

An idea struck her. Carol hurried back into the forest. Within minutes, she had what she needed. She stacked the pile of dry pinecones and needles against one of the mounds, sure to get enough for her purposes. It took her several vigorous minutes, but one of Morgan's earliest lessons finally came to fruition. The spark set the pine needles ablaze. Carefully, Carol stoked her creation, adding more and more until she had a bonfire. She dipped the pinecones in one by one, chucking them with all of her strength into the pile around her. Slowly, the flames began to spread.

She backed up, praying it would be enough. With a sound like a sudden wind, the garbage in front of her finally caught, going up in a towering inferno.

Smiling, Carol ran backwards, ready to implement the second part of her plan.

-l-l-l-l-

"Baby, are you breathing?" Rick clung tightly to Michonne's hand, ignoring the throbbing in his own hand, following her directions as they navigated the labyrinth of trash.

"Kind of hard, given the surroundings," she smiled, albeit strained, at him.

"Just stay calm," the instruction was partly for her, partly for him. "We're getting out of this."

"You know," she took another shaky breath, her fingers suddenly crushing his. Rick paused, waiting for her to ride it out. She released him after a moment, restarting her steps. "We should probably have a signal, in case we ever get split up again. This was a rookie mistake."

Rick could not help but laugh, her familiar humor strangely relaxing, even as they ran for freedom. "No need. I am never letting your out of my sight again."

"Deal," she pointed ahead, turning them to the left.

Her turn of phrase reminded him of their captor. "Jadis wants to keep you, and the baby," he told her, his anger flaring up again.

"Why didn't she kill you?" Michonne asked, her eyes widening.

"She wanted to keep me too," Rick shivered at the mere thought.

"What do you mean?" his wife's voice was suddenly sharp.

"I guess she hasn't found any baby makers here that she liked," Rick put it as delicately as he could. He didn't want Michonne giving birth with that thought in her head. "She had me fight this crazy, spiked walker to prove myself." He waved his bandaged hand.

"Where is she?" Michonne demanded, reaching for the weapon.

"Michonne," he swatted her hand away, but she pushed forward.

"I'm killing this woman," she told him.

Rick had to grin. "If we see her, feel free, but we need to keep moving."

Reluctantly she agreed, continuing forward. "Do you smell that?" she asked, sniffing at the air.

"I'm smelling a lot of things, 'Chonne," he felt a stab of pity for her. Her pregnancy nose had been a sensitive thing. She had to be in hell now.

"Rick, it's smoke," she pointed, drawing his eyes to the west.

Huge plumes of black streamed into the air, shading them from the morning sun.

"We have to go," this whole place was about to go up like a tinder box. Michonne clutched at his hand again, another contraction overtaking her. They were getting closer together, dangerously so.

She looked up at him, worry apparent in her eyes for the first time. "Rick, I don't want to have our baby in here."

"You won't," he promised her. He ripped a sleeve off of his shirt with his good hand, insulating the bleeding one with the fabric. In one swoop, his wife was in his arms. "Tell me which way to go," he instructed.

-l-l-l-l-

It took a while to find the van, but Carol located it a hundred meters out from the junkyard. Two men were sitting in the car, blissfully unaware. She considered her gun for a moment, but the noise could draw more enemies, or even walkers. Swallowing, she reached for her knife.

They didn't see her coming, the smoke distracting them. She crept up behind the one on the passenger's side, using stealth honed by years of tip-toeing around her own home and husband. In a gurgle of blood, he fell. Carol rolled under the van before the driver could notice, stabbing straight through his worn out boots. He howled to high heaven, falling to the ground. In another swipe, he was dead too, the victims of the headshots she had practiced over the last few months with Michonne.

"I'm coming," she climbed into the driver's seat, watching as her handiwork spread from trash pile to trash pile.

-l-l-l-l-

"That's it," Michonne pointed from her place in her husband's arm, gesturing to the way she had been brought in. Her contractions were just minutes apart now.

"Ok," Rick nodded, rushing towards it. "When we get out of here, we find my car. She left it somewhere when she brought me in. Then we gun it for home."

Michonne tensed up, another wave of pain coursing through her. She hardened her resolve to hold out. She was not giving birth in this garbage heap.

"Hang on, honey. We're going to—"

It happened in a moment, the trash beside them shifting, and rushing towards them. Rick let her go and she tumbled to the ground, the air rushing out of her lungs.

"The baby stays," Jadis' voice had lost its sardonic tone. She climbed down quickly, gun drawn, pointed at Rick. "The baby stays," she repeated. "or husband dies."


	16. Birthday

**A/N: I've had a crazy weekend, but I managed to get a little bit of time to update! Thank you to all of the readers, reviewers, and supporters. You guys keep inspiring me.**

 **The story is drawing to a close (probably one more chapter). I hope you are all still enjoying it. :)**

* * *

Fear and pain combined at Michonne's core, a heady concoction that blurred her vision. Shakily, she rolled to her side, knee-deep in both garbage and another contraction. Her sword was pressed between her shoulder blades, trapped partially beneath pounds of trash, holding her in place like a turtle turned on its shell. The smoke in the air had finally caught them, filling her lungs, overpowering even the scent of their environment.

From above her, Jadis aimed her pistol at Michonne's husband, all humor gone from her pinched expression. Rick dug himself out of the mound of refuse, face red in fury. With barely a glance, Jadis pulled the trigger.

The crack went off, deafening and terrifying. Michonne felt herself crying out. Rick made a sound as though all of the air had been pushed forcibly out of his body and collapsed.

"The baby," Jadis glared down at her.

"Michonne, no," Rick managed to groan, valiantly attempting to rise to his feet again. Jadis cocked the pistol again.

"Don't," Michonne commanded. "Don't."

Jadis paused but did not move her gun away from Rick. "The baby," she repeated.

"I'm not having my baby here. You get us out, the baby is yours," the words hurt even as they left her. The fire was closing in, the smoke making Michonne dizzy. Rick let out a wordless moan, born both of pain and protest.

Jadis hesitated, her eyes narrowing. She looked down at Rick.

"He's bleeding," Michonne constructed her plea. "His hand and his leg," she could see the crimson stain on her husband's jeans spreading. "I'm in labor." Michonne hissed through the end of her contraction. "We can't hurt you."

Their captor weighed her options, wasting time they did not have.

"This place is going up in flames. You need to decide now," Michonne prompted. "Deal?"

Jadis considered this. "Deal," the smirk reemerged. She lowered her gun, walking over towards Michonne. Michonne's muscles tensed as the woman got closer, her fingers digging into the debris beneath her. The woman reached for her, and Michonne steeled her nerve, willing herself to stay still.

"My baby," she smiled from beneath her blunt bangs, her free hand coming around Michonne's baby bump, the gun hanging limply at her side. The child inside of her kicked in protest. Michonne took a deep breath, summoning her strength.

The shard of metal in her palm was just sharp enough to do the job. Michonne hit hard, slamming it into Jadis' neck with all the force she could muster, praying it would be enough. The hand on Michonne's stomach clung to her with bruising force, surprise written all over Jadis' face. She tried to cry out, but only a gurgle escaped, the hot liquid pouring forward. Michonne braced herself for the feeling of it showering her, but it never came.

Rick was on his feet, yanking backwards at Jadis, a tangle of her hair caught between his knuckles. She toppled backwards, eyes wide. Swiftly, Rick stood, seizing the gun from Jadis' now slackened fist. He pulled the trigger without a word, and the gurgling ceased.

"Let's go," Rick moved forward, limping, and picked Michonne up.

"You're bleeding," Michonne protested as he dug her out.

"And you're in labor," Rick's voice held no humor. "Let's go." He half-held her, Michonne's feet just brushing the ground as they dragged one another towards the exit.

Michonne covered her mouth with her shirt, trying to filter out some of the smoke. She had lost her bearings in the fight.

"Rick," she could hear the panic in her own tone. Rick pulled them forward.

"Let's go," he repeated, digging in, a wince on his face.

A contraction hit her and her knees buckled, dragging both of them down. Rick attempted to pull her up, but Michonne could not move.

"Honey," Rick coaxed her through gritted teeth. "We have to go, we have to keep—"

A wall of trash in front of them exploded, the force of a van barreling through tossing items in front of them. Michonne and Rick stared in shock. Carol was in the driver's seat, clutching the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip.

"Get in!" she shouted, reversing enough to free the passenger's side door. Rick grabbed Michonne, flinging them both into the seat. The van was in motion before they pulled the door closed. "What happened?" Carol asked, swinging the vehicle around like a stunt driver.

"Long story," Rick was pale, on the verge of collapse. Michonne leaned over, takin advantage of the few minutes between her contractions to pull a sleeve off of her husband's shirt. She bound his leg first, then tugged the filthy rag from his hand. Carol passed her a bottle of water and Michonne poured it over him, rinsing the filth away from the open wound. Another sleeve later and his hand was bandaged too. She attempted to get Rick to drink the water, but he refused, tilting the container towards her own parched lips.

"We have to go," Rick prompted, seemingly forgetting the car was tearing up the street. "We have to get back to the Haven."

"No time," Michonne grit her teeth. "The baby is coming now."

-l-l-l-l-

When Rick had pictured this moment, it had been at home, somewhere cool and quiet, with someone with medical training on hand. In his head, their parents were just downstairs, Michonne was smiling in bed, gripping his hand. In his head, their child came into the world surrounded by comfort. Reality was very different.

Carol had pulled over on the side of the road, sheltered between a grove of trees, standing guard with a gun. Rick had sanitized his hands and washed Michonne the best he could with another jug of water. He was stationed in the back of the van, between his wife's knees, realizing he knew absolutely nothing about child birth.

"How are you feeling?" he ventured, realizing immediately how stupid his question had to have been.

"Scared," Michonne's breathing was uneven, her eyes pooling over with tears.

"You can do this," he grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly. Michonne squeezed her eyes shut, tensing with another wave of pain. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. " _We_ can do this," he reasserted, returning to his place in front of her.

"What do I do?" her eyes popped open, finding his, pleading with him.

"You hold my hand, and push," he laced his fingers with hers. "Right Carol?" he shouted for the older woman.

"Right," she popped her head around, automatic weapon cocked. "Remember to breathe, sweetie. In and out," she smiled sweetly at Michonne.

His wife nodded, inhaling deeply.

"Ok," she sat up slightly, her expression shifting. "Ok."

"I'm right here," Rick touched her leg, trying to stay calm. "Breathe and push."

With a muffled cry, Michonne bared down, her body trembling. Rick clung to her, his bandaged hand around her leg. A faint memory came back, of watching his neighbor's dog have puppies as a child. He recalled his child-like wonder watching the miracle of life unfold in front of him. What was happening now put that experience to shame. His baby, his and Michonne's, was emerging from his warrior wife, one centimeter at a time.

"Rick," she cried out his name, crushing his fingers between hers.

"I can see the baby," he told her, hoping it encouraged her. "You're so close, honey."

Nodding, she began again, squeezing her eyes closed. Rick felt himself grow dizzy at the sight of a head full of curly dark hair.

"I see the head," he gasped.

"I want to see," Michonne wailed. With a tremendous effort, she pushed.

Their son came screaming into the world. Michonne burst into tears immediately, the salt water cutting tracks down the remnants of filth on her face. She sat up, leaning to see him. Rick held him in shock, cradling the tiny body instinctively, completely floored.

"Rick," Michonne called out, reaching for him. Smiling, Rick straightened up, crawling beside her.

"Michonne, meet Carl," he set the infant on her chest. "Carl, meet your mama."

The tears were coming hot and thick now, rolling down Michonne's face and onto the baby's head. Carl's screams grew fainter as he nuzzled his mother. Michonne sat up, leaning against the wall of the van. She tugged at her shirt. Rick helped her peel the soiled fabric off, quickly removing his own to drape it over her shoulders. All the while, Carl suckled contently, perfectly at ease, as though his life had started in a cushioned room instead of the back of a car.

"He's so beautiful," Michonne's head fell on Rick's bare arm, completely spent.

He watched in awe, reaching out to stroke the tiny head, the tiny curls impossibly soft against his calloused palm.

Carol peeked around at them, a smile playing on her face. Gingerly, she handed over her vest. Rick accepted it gratefully, wrapping it around his son.

"You guys have company," she announced with a grin.

-l-l-l-l-

Michonne had expected Sasha to come for her, and Maggie. She's expected to see Glenn and Daryl as well. What she did not expect was the sight before her.

Rick's parents and her parents were there, standing armed to the teeth with a dozen fighters each. Ezekiel had come, Shiva on a chain before him, the tiger primed and ready for a fight, her fur gleaming in the light of the afternoon. Sasha, Maggie, Daryl, and Glen leading the charge.

"Michonne!" Collette ran straight for her daughter. The normally stoic woman's voice cracked around her daughter's name. She climbed into the van, stroking Michonne's hair, then Carl's. "They said you'd been kidnapped," she muttered into her daughter's ear, crying.

"We escaped," Michonne clung to her mom. "Carol, she saved us."

"We were so worried," Collette kissed her. Slowly, Rick eased away, allowing the two women a moment. Michonne watched him limp off to his own parents. They fell on him in a hurry. Michonne began to cry in earnest as her father ran towards her.

"We're ok, mom," she promised. "All of us." She tilted Carl in their direction. As long as Michonne lived, she would never forget their expressions.

Rick led his parents to them, climbing proudly back in beside Michonne. "Grandmas and Grandpas," he lifted the baby, holding him up for their inspection, "meet Carl."

-l-l-l-l-

"You scared the hell out of us," Glenn clasped Rick's shoulder, squeezing hard. "We found that overturned tree, and Daryl started to track…"

"Why the fuck would you run off like that?" Daryl was far less charitable in his inquisition.

"She said she had Michonne," Rick shrugged. The stitches in his hand and waist stung a bit, but being clean was an incredible relief. Every inch of him had been looked over by Hershel while the Kingdom's doctor attended to Michonne. Rick was in the hallway now, eagerly awaiting his reunion with his family.

"She didn't," Glenn shook his head. "She was home at the Haven."

"Sasha said she burst out of there like a bat out of hell, looking for you. She played you both," Daryl was still angry, his default emotion whenever things went wrong.

"It won't happen again," Rick shrugged. He was done agonizing about it. The mini army that had set out to rescue them had leveled what remained of that junkyard to the ground, hunting down anyone who remained. Reportedly, no women or children had been found onsite, just Jadis and her odd hodgepodge of men. Rick could not have cared less about her motive; she was dead now, and Michonne and Carl were safe.

"Damn right," Daryl still glowered.

"It was stupid, Rick," Glenn interjected.

"What if it had been Sasha?" Rick asked him, amused. "Or Maggie?"

Their sheepish silence was answer enough. Rick smirked, turning his head back to the door Michonne was behind.

"We figured out how she escaped," Glenn said, clearing his throat. "Do you want to know?"

"Later," Rick grinned as Hershel opened the door, motioning him inside. "Come meet my kid first." Rick all but ran into his and Michonne's bedroom, cutting a path straight to his wife and son. Glenn reacted first, laughing delightedly at the sight of the little brown infant. When Carl blinked up at him, revealing eyes to match Rick's even Daryl grinned.

"He's cute," Daryl admitted, his lips quirking.

"Cute?" Glenn asked, aghast. "Thank God you married him, Michonne. Rick had no chance of having a kid that cute on his own. He wins the cutest baby prize. At least until Maggie and I get going."

Michonne laughed, kissing Rick on the cheek. She looked tired, but radiant. Her hand found his. The other wrapped tighter around their baby.

"Dream big, Glenn," she fired back, kissing Carl on the forehead.

-l-l-l-l-

"I think he's supposed to go in the crib," Rick chastised jokingly, leaving his boots at the door.

Michonne turned her face, watching her husband limp across the room to her. He pulled off his shirt, slipping into bed behind her, wincing as his hip connected with the sheets. Michonne reached back, rubbing his head soothingly, one hand still covering her son's back.

"I can't let him go," she explained. "Not yet."

Rick pressed his chest into her back, leaning over her. He tucked his chin in her shoulder, extending his hand over her body to lay on top of their son.

"We made it," Michonne whispered, feeling her husband's heart pounding against her back, Carl's soft breathing beneath her hand. She was clean, alive, and in bed with her family.

It was the happiest she'd ever been.

"We made it," Rick kissed her gently, tightening his grip on her.

"We'll have to thank Carol, officially," Michonne's mind wandered to their rescuer. She had slunk off once they arrived back at the Haven, disappearing with a borderline frantic Morgan. Michonne suspected that their status as partners would soon take on a much more romantic tone.

"She's tougher thank she looks," Rick acknowledged, his voice gravelly. His hand ran back and forth over their son's head. "We made this," he remarked in awe.

Michonne laughed. "We did." There would be time later to unpack the day's events, time to compare notes, to debrief, to move forward. For now, she wanted to lie in bed with her husband and her son.

They cuddled together quietly, exhausted but unwilling to take their eyes off Carl.


	17. Epilogue: Anniversary

**A/N: That's all folks! Thank you, from the very bottom of my heart for all of the support on this story! You guys inspired it, and I hope it was as fun to read as it was to write! I may revisit this Richonne from time to time, but for now, that's a wrap!**

 **Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

* * *

"Guess what?"

Michonne turned away from her place in the mirror as her husband came into their bedroom. He was wearing a smile that she immediately recognized and not much else, his jeans hanging low on his waist.

"Carl went down for his nap?" she asked, amused. She slipped a bobby pin into her mouth as she busied herself with her hair, attempting to maneuver the long locs into an elaborate updo.

"Sound asleep," Rick confirmed, coming to stand behind her. He seized his opportunity while Michonne's hands were up, slinking his arms around her waist.

"We should take advantage then," she tilted her head, pulling a pin from between her lips and tucking it into her hair.

"My thoughts exactly," Rick's mouth came to the exposed skin of her neck, nipping at her lightly.

She shivered, her hair slipping from her fingers, tumbling down over her shoulders. Rick did not allow it to distract him, sweeping it all to the side with one fist as his other hand began a quest to get into her robe.

"Rick..." responsibility and rational thought were quickly fleeing her mind. She made a last-ditch effort to get back on track. "Everyone will be here soon."

"There's plenty of time," he assured her, managing to slide his hand between the folds of fabric wrapped around her.

The battle was lost the moment that his calloused palms found her skin, tracing her with finesse born of hours of practice. A ragged sigh escaped her and she fell forward slightly, catching herself on the dresser in front of her. Her robe fell open.

Spinning, she turned to face her husband. His eyes raked over her appreciatively, the pupils dilating. "We have to be quiet," she reminded him. Her hands were already smoothing over him, clutching at the muscles that she knew and loved so well.

"No problem," he caught her lips with his own. A chaste peck quickly dissolved into passionate, open-mouthed kisses as he pushed the bathrobe from her shoulders. Michonne freed him from his jeans, allowing Rick to take control. He grasped her around her hips, yanking her up until her legs were around his waist, her bottom resting against the edge of the dresser. She was helpless to do anything but hold on.

Not that she minded. She clung to Rick as he moved, muffling her cries of delight against his chest. It hadn't taken long for Rick to learn exactly what buttons to push to get the reactions he wanted from her. Currently, he expertly manipulated them all, testing her resolve to remain quiet. She dug her nails into his back as he pushed her off the edge, gasping his name. She arched her back, pushing into him, still desperate for the feel of him.

He gave her a moment to recover, looking all too smug as she came down from her high. "You ok, hon?" he asked, feigning concern. He looked down at her through his lashes, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

Michonne smirked. She kissed him, tugging at his ringlets of hair until he groaned in pleasure. "I'm fine," she lowered her feet to the ground, pushing at Rick until he began to move backwards. The back of his knees hit the bed and he went tumbling over. Michonne wasted no time in pinning him down. Rick flattened out, smiling at her as she took control. The faint scar on the palm of his right hand brushed against hers, the ring on her left pressing snuggly against his fingers. She began to kiss down his body, delighting in his gasps as he saw what she was aiming for.

"'Chonne," he choked out his shortened version of her name as her tongue darted out.

"Shh…" she reminded him, pleased with having turned the tables on her husband. "Don't wake up Carl." With a impish smile, she set about paying her husband back.

"Damn, baby…" Rick had never learned to keep quiet when her mouth was on him. The words that spilled from his lips got her wound up, and Michonne momentarily forgot the importance of stealth. His encouragements became more and more vocal, growing in timbre as she moved. He let out a shout of surprise when she added her hands to the mix.

The crying was almost instantaneous. Ignoring Rick's groan of protest, Michonne released him, sitting up.

"Too loud," she chastised with a chuckle, watching Rick scramble for his pants.

"It's your fault," he called back to her, rushing out of the room to retrieve Carl, leaving Michonne laughing on the bed.

-l-l-l-l-

"Carl looks as confused as we were a year ago," Michonne leaned over, whispering directly into Rick's ear.

Rick held in his chuckle, acutely aware of their surroundings. "I wasn't confused," he whispered back. They were standing in the church at the Haven, stationed in the front pew. Father Gabriel from Alexandria was holding the baby. Normally amicable with strangers, Carl squirmed in the priest's grasp, glancing desperately around for his parents. His dark blue eyes found them, his chubby little fists reaching out for them. Michonne waved back, blowing him a kiss before turning to her husband.

"No?" she raised one eyebrow skeptically.

"No," he shook his head, reaching for her hand. "I was nervous, but not confused." In fact, he had been focused mainly on keeping his breathing even and not passing out on top of her. She'd looked gorgeous that day, the first time he'd ever seen her in a dress, even if it had been a tulle monstrosity.

"I made you nervous?" her pleased little smile brought a grin to Rick's face. She had managed to get dressed despite his best efforts. Rick appreciated the effect on her. Her hair was piled atop her head, leaving her face exposed to his gaze.

"Always. My parents hooked me up with the prettiest girl in all four communities. I didn't want to blow it," he kissed her hand, enjoying her adoring expression. It still felt like a dream sometimes, to wake up with her in bed beside him. When Carl was in her arms, it was downright surreal. In a year, they'd gone from strangers, to lovers, to partners, to parents.

"Flatterer," she accused, straightening his collar.

"Your parents are big on ceremonies," Rick shifted somewhat awkwardly in his dress pants, looking uncomfortable in the formal outfit. Michonne had insisted that he leave his well-worn jeans at home, trading them for pants that he hadn't worn in a year.

"It's kind of the Kingdom's thing," Michonne giggled lowly, her eyes on their son. She did seem at home in her ivory dress, the fabric falling gracefully over her slender and muscled figure.

"It might not be Carl's thing," Rick was seconds from demanding his son back from the priest. Carl's cherubic copper-colored face was contorting, a surefire sign he was on the brink of tears. "Why does he need to get christened?" Rick whispered to his wife as Gabriel began to speak.

Michonne nudged him in the ribs, silencing him. "Be good," she hissed between her teeth, attempting to maintain some sense of decorum.

"I'm always good," he muttered under his breath. He wasn't much for ceremony.

"Be really good, and we'll finish what we started earlier," her lips quirked up into the hint of a grin. Rick straightened up immediately.

"Do you think he's going to lift him up like in _the Lion King_?" he couldn't resist one last joke.

"There is a tiger here," Michonne hid her giggle behind her hand, drawing a look from both of their parents. The young couple refocused immediately. "You're going to get us in trouble," Michonne squeezed Rick's hand, leaning into him.

Rick tucked her under his arm, attempting to look official while they watched Gabriel go through his ministrations. To his right, Glenn and Maggie were beside them, Maggie's palms resting on her growing baby bump. Daryl and Sasha were next to them, Sasha standing dutifully, Daryl looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. To Michonne's left, Morgan and Carol were holding hands, watching the proceedings proudly.

"How come you didn't pick us?" Glenn griped during the reception. Maggie was bouncing Carl on her waist delightedly, blissfully ignorant of her new husband's complaints. The rest of the group was stationed around a table, chatting and eating.

"They've got experience," Rick laugh. In truth, it hadn't taken Rick and Michonne long at all to decide on Carol and Morgan as Carl's godparents. Carol had been there for Carl's birth and Morgan had a calm energy that Michonne admired.

"We do too!" Glenn protested. "Or we will," he amended, looking fondly at Maggie's miniature baby bump.

"You'll get the next one," Michonne promised, retrieving her son from Maggie.

"What about us?" Sasha asked, affronted. She paused, spoon halfway to her mouth, daring them to deny her. Daryl rolled his eyes from beside her, content to shovel food in his own mouth.

"You'll get the one after that," Rick held in his laugh.

"How many are we planning on having?" Michonne asked, her face contorted in faux shock.

"We have to repopulate the world," Rick shrugged, pinching lightly at Carl's thighs. He loved those chubby little legs. Carl grinned gummily at his father. "Plus, he's so dang cute, we gotta make more."

Michonne smiled at him, leaning down to kiss Carl's head. "Soon," she consented, laying her head on Rick's shoulder. "But not _too_ soon."

"I thought you wanted to work on it later tonight," Rick grinned salaciously.

"You guys realize we can hear you, right?" Glenn rolled his eyes, scoffing.

"Plug your ears," Michonne shrugged, reaching for her son. Maggie released him reluctantly, laughing.

Rick watched her stand, bringing the baby over to where their parents were seated. Carl immediately disappeared in a sea of fawning grandparents. He was so distracted by her that he did not notice a guest slink up to his table.

"Hey," Rick whipped his head around at the sound of Mike's voice. He hadn't seen the man in months, not since Michonne had announced their pregnancy.

"Hi," Rick's fist balled involuntarily. He'd almost forgotten that Mike existed.

Mike swallowed, working himself up to something. His eyes met Rick's. "I just wanted to tell you congratulations," he said, looking as though the effort hurt him in some way. "And I wish you well."

Rick nodded, disguising his surprise. "Thank you," he remembered his manners.

Mike sucked on his teeth, looking as though he wanted to say more. "He's a cute kid."

"Thanks. We like him," Rick turned his head to where Michonne was dancing with Carl, swinging him around gently to the music. He stood up. "Nice seeing you, Mike." With another nod, Rick made his way to his family.

"What was that about?" Michonne asked, her clever eyes staring up at him.

"Nothing important," Rick pulled her into his arms, their son between them. Michonne smiled, swaying with him, a smile on her face.

"Happy Anniversary," she said lightly, kissing him.

"Happy Anniversary," Rick smiled, kissing her deeper.


End file.
